


The Sun and The Sea

by DallonWho



Category: Panic! at the Disco
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - No Band, Angst, Anxiety, Depression, Dysphoria, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Nonbinary Character, Other, Self-Discovery, Trans Character
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-11
Updated: 2018-07-03
Packaged: 2019-03-29 16:47:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 15
Words: 45,105
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13931181
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DallonWho/pseuds/DallonWho
Summary: Ryan was excited to finally start a new chapter in their life with their best friends. Moving from Las Vegas to Chicago was something they'd dreamt about for years. A new start - a chance for all of them to build the lives they wanted.Except Spencer's not coping well with Brendon's new-found sexual freedom, Brendon won't tell them anything anymore, and Ryan's not sure what to do about the guy who keeps popping up in their life.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> here it is - the rywalk fic ive been working on for a month.
> 
> my goal right now is to post a chapter every saturday until its done. as of right now im on chapter seven, and im not even halfway done, so i cant even estimate when this story will conclude.
> 
> another note: the f-slur will be used in this fic, but not maliciously, as it is something i and my other queer friends call each other in real life. if that bothers you, i am sorry.

_“Eternity is the sun_

_mixed_

_with the sea”_

_― Arthur Rimbaud_

-

Ryan laid on their stomach in the dry heat of Las Vegas, impatiently tapping their pen against the concrete of their best friend’s garage. Notebook opened on the floor in front of them, but not much writing was getting done. “Writers block can suck my dick.” They groaned, throwing the pen across the room.

“Maybe stop writing your gay poetry for five minutes and you won’t stress yourself into a heatstroke.” Brendon picked up the pen where it had bounced off the guitar he was tuning and threw it back at Ryan. His glasses slid down his nose from the sweat. “Although if you wanted to see stress you should have seen Spencer when he took his history final. I swear I thought he was going to pop a blood vessel.”

“Fuck you, Urie, history can eat me.” Spencer lazily threw a drumstick at their friend before rolling his shoulders. “Can we stop pretending to practice now and go in the house? Where there’s air conditioning and ice cream?” It wasn’t really a question, because Spencer stood up and started moving his drums back to the corner of the room before he got a reply.

Ryan sighed, snatching their notebook and making their way to their feet. “Yeah, alright. But only because Ginger bought the French vanilla I like.” 

“Ryan’s the favorite child.” Brendon laughed, leaning his guitar against the doorway before following Spencer inside. 

“Of course I am.” Ryan raised their chin smugly. “I get better grades than Spencer and don’t throw bitch fits about running errands.” They teased, and Brendon’s laugh got louder when Spencer tried to throw Ryan’s ice cream in the trash.

- 

The writing implements laid forgotten on the desk in the corner as Brendon laid across their laps on the bed in the basement. “Spence, lemme taste.” He pouted, stretching his neck to bump his nose into Spencer’s chin. “Just lemme lick, c’mon.”

Ryan felt bad for Spencer, they really did. Brendon didn’t make it easy for Spencer to control his crush on the boy. They took pity on him. “Brendon I’ll let you have my entire cone if you stop trying to lick the leftover ice cream off his chin.” Just as they thought, Brendon immediately sat up and in one fluid motion set himself comfortably in Ryan’s lap.

He took the cone with a happy sound. “You’re so much nicer to me than Spencer.” Brendon cooed, giving Ryan a sloppy vanilla kiss on the cheek. Ryan shoved him off, but not enough to push him off the couch.

Spencer snorted. “It looks like you just came on Ryan’s face.” Ryan shoots Spencer a silent how-dare-you-I-just-saved-you-and-this-is-how-you-repay-me? look before wiping off their face with the sleeve of Brendon’s shirt.

“Oh please, Ryan wishes I’d jizz on their face.” Brendon quipped before rolling onto the floor next to the bed. Silence lapped over the group, the tv played in the background but no one gave it any mind.

“We’re graduating tomorrow.” He said more to himself than anyone else. Brendon rested his head against Spencer’s knee.

Spencer wiped ice cream off Brendon’s glasses before running his fingers through his friend’s hair. “And you didn’t drop out. Good for you.” The words implied teasing, but Spencer’s tone said otherwise. 

Brendon had a rougher year than they’d thought at the beginning. The band was fun, it was something they’d all loved doing. When you’re under twenty-one in Las Vegas, you had to make your own fun. Ryan always loved writing poems, and they found it translated well into lyrics. Spencer had started playing drums very young, and always loved to put all his frustrations into his kit. But music, particularly performing, it was something else for Brendon. Something his parents didn’t want for Brendon. He managed to juggle school, his part time jobs, and renting his own apartment better than anyone else probably would, but that didn’t mean his smile wasn’t just a little dimmer than when they’d all met.

“Yeah, good for me.” Brendon muses, biting into the cone dripping down his hand. “And Ry!” He exclaimed, mouth full of food. “You got transfer credits!”

They couldn’t help but grin. “I do.” Ryan confirmed, throwing their arms in the air in lazy victory. Spencer reached over and high-fived an open palm. Ryan had never intended on staying at University of Las Vegas; that was never the plan. The plan was always Chicago. But when your two best friends are a year under you, you end up having to make amendments to the plan. “The plan.” They said out loud, pointing at Spencer. “You and Ginger still flying out after graduation?”

“Yep.” Spencer confirmed, popping the p, fingers rubbing circles on Brendon’s head. “Mom’s gonna double check that we won’t die and then we’re signing shit.” He grinned and lightly smacked the top of Brendon’s head. “But first we have to go to that fucking graduation ceremony.”

Brendon jumped up off the floor. “Graduating!” He exclaimed, dumping himself back into their laps. He curled his back against Spencer’s chest and poked Ryan in the cheek. “We’re gonna have a sleepover the night before and all head over together, right?” He asked, face flush with excitement.

Ryan flicked one of his toes. “Well considering we live here, you’re basically just asking if you can stay over.”

“That is what I’m asking, yes.”

“Of course, idiot.” Spencer rolled his eyes. “You’re always welcome to the queer-overs.”

Brendon rolled his eyes at the nickname Ryan and Spencer gave their sleepovers before the two of them met Brendon. “We should have called our band Brendon and the Queers.”

“Two Trans and a Baby.” Ryan snorts.

“Bi Bi Bye.” Spencer quips. “Spelled B-I-B-I-B-Y-E. Get it. Cause we’re bi, and Brendon doesn’t know when to leave.” Brendon scoffed, punching Spencer’s knee.

“We would have been been the best N*Sync cover band.” Ryan sighed. “But alas, we’re ineligible to be a boy band. Guess we’ll just have to go to Chicago instead of playing random Las Vegas gay bars.”

The two boys grinned. Chicago. 

-

The white fabric of the dress fell to their knees as they leaned down to fasten their sandals. Straightening up, Ryan looked at themself in the mirror; adjusted the purple braided belt, shrugged their shoulders. It’s not that they particularly wanted to wear a dress to the graduation, but with their boys finally leaving school it was Ryan’s last chance to throw a nice “fuck you” to the building they wanted to burn down ever day for four years. Ryan dressed for themself, and today themself wanted to piss off as many suburban parents as possible.

“Pretty.” Spencer complimented as he came down the stairs to check on Ryan’s progress. He came up next to Ryan and stood next to them in the mirror. “We could make a pretty little het couple if we weren’t a pair of fags.” Spencer joked, wrapping his arm around their waist. Ryan turned him to tuck a piece of his hair back into place.

“Ginger cleans you up nice.” They smiled and pet his cheek. His hair was straightened like every other day, but it didn’t look as unkempt as usual. His shirt was tucked into what Spencer called his “funeral slacks” and his only tie was around his neck. They pulled away and sat down at their desk. Opening one of the drawers, Ryan pulled out a makeup bag. “She trying to clean up Brendon?” They asked, pulling out a collection of makeup-related sticks. They looked at Spencer in the mirror as he sat down on the foot of Ryan’s bed.

His eyes rolled. “She doesn’t have to try, he loves the attention.” The two of them laughed. It was true, Brendon loved any and all attention, especially if someone played with his hair. The two of them sat in silence and Ryan smudged her lower lid with a stick the same color as her belt.

“Not wanting to go to their own sons graduation.” Ryan heard Spencer hiss to himself. Looking away from their own reflection, they focused on Spencer behind them. He was wringing his hands together. “Your dad is- he’s sick and he can’t be bothered to learn pronouns and still came to your graduation and his parents are alive and perfectly fine and right down the street and what, they’re at Sunday fucking Mass?!”

Ryan got up from the desk and stood in front of him. They wrapped their arms around his neck and pulled his head to their stomach. “Stop yelling or he’ll hear you and get even more upset that he already is.” They shushed him, rubbing his neck until the muscles unclenched. “Besides, we’re way cooler than a bunch of Mormons with their white picket fences and two-point-five kids. You think Mrs. Urie would ever wear such kickass makeup? Because I certainly don’t.”

Spencer laughed lightly, his fingers unclenching from where they’d subconsciously fisted in her dress. “Way cooler.” He agreed, cooled down. “It’s just. Brendon, he’s-“ The words caught in his throat like a squeak, and when Ryan pulled back to look him in the eyes, he’s looking at his shoes. “He deserves better.”

“Hey.” Ryan tilted his chin to make him look them in the eyes, and they bent down to kiss his nose. Spencer couldn’t help but smile, remembering back to when he used to do the same thing whenever Ryan crawled in through his window at night. “I know.” Ryan sighed, but then grinned. “And now you’ll have at least a year living in Chicago with him to get up the nerve to actually talk to him about those gay little feelings of yours!” They exclaimed loud enough that Spencer blushed.

“God I hate you.” Spencer grumbled, standing up as Ryan went back to the vanity to swipe mascara onto their lids. “If you could not let our heterosexual friend know my bisexual ass has a crush on his dumb ass, that would be fantastic, thanks.” Ryan laughed and shoved the makeup away.

“Oh come on,” They rolled their eyes, turning around to look for their bag. “One, we both know it’s only a matter of time before he trips over his own feet and falls out of the closet.” Spencer snorted as Ryan grabbed a purse from the floor next to their desk. “And two,” they continued, grabbing a random book from the stack on the floor and shoving it in their bag. “it’s not like you’re subtle.”

Spencer spluttered. “Can you not mock me on my own graduation day?!” He exclaimed, and they shook their head. Spencer huffed, pouting as he headed for the stairs. “Fuck you, you can stay here.” Ryan followed him up the stairs, laughing.

Coming out of the basement, Ryan noticed everyone but Mrs. Smith and Brendon appeared ready to leave. “Well don’t you two look lovely.” Spencer’s father, Jeff, commented. He stood up from his spot next to his daughters and pulled Ryan into a one-armed hug. “Excited to go back to school?” He joked, knowing the answer before Ryan started fake gagging. He laughed. “Fair enough.”

Ryan pulled away from the hug and leaned on the wall next to Spencer. They watched as his father gave the twins a speech about how they were going to be polite young ladies and not behave like they had at Ryan’s graduation. Ryan and Spencer both giggle, remembering the lipstick incident.

“Okay, let’s go!” Ginger exclaimed, walking down the stairs with a camera slung over her shoulder, Brendon following behind her. “The my boys are finally graduating and we will not be late!” She didn’t stop to make sure anyone was following her as she walked out the front door.

Spencer handed Brendon his graduation gown. “If you make us late to our graduation because yo-“ The rest of the words caught in his mouth as he seemingly choked on his tongue. Ryan shot him a look before finally looking at Brendon.

He had eyeliner smudged thoughtfully around his eyes, somehow making them look bigger and browner than they already were. Ryan looked back at Spencer and smirked at the red spreading up his neck. 

Ryan threw their arm around Brendon’s neck and led him out the front door. They could hear the Smith family car pull out of the driveway and Ryan pulled the keys to their car out of their purse. “Come on, let’s go before Ginger beats us there.” They pull him away from Spencer, letting their friend compose himself in peace. “You look good.” They complimented. A year ago Brendon would never dare to leave the house in makeup let alone go to something this big.

A smile, a genuine smile, spread across his face. “I do look good!.” Brendon beamed, jogging slightly to the car. “Shotgun!” He exclaimed, and Ryan laughed as they heard Spencer’s exclamation of “Fuck!” from the front porch.

-

If Ryan got dirty looks for standing on top of their seat and screaming when Brendon walked across the stage, they didn’t notice. 

-

Two days after graduation found Spencer and his mother flying out to Chicago to finalize their apartment, which left Ryan and Brendon alone for a few days. Whenever Spencer wasn’t in town, Ryan ended up in Brendon’s apartment. It wasn’t that they weren’t welcome in the Smith home. Ryan had been living there on and off their whole life, although after graduation it became permanently on.

Brendon’s apartment wasn’t much; a smaller than small studio with a mattress on the floor. The only personal belongings were a beaten guitar and an old laptop of Spencer’s. Whenever the three of them ended up at Brendon’s place they’d put the laptop on top of a chair and pile into the bed together, watching old movies util they fell asleep. Now, all the clothing Brendon usually had laying around were in boxes. His apartment lease was up at the end of the month and with him not renewing, he was going to be living with Ryan in the basement of the Smith residence. Ryan knew it took a lot of convincing from Spencer’s parents to get Brendon to stay, but Ginger made a hard argument. She’d rather he live with them for a few months and save any money he could earn for when they all moved, and Brendon couldn’t argue.

Ryan laid on the old mattress as they waited for Brendon to get home from his shift at a shop in the mall. They flipped through their book, a worn-down Palahniuk, not really reading the words on the page. It was all becoming very real for them. They had all started working more now that schools and classes weren’t in the way. Brendon was working more shifts at the mall, Spencer was going to work with his father when he got back, and Ryan. Well. Ryan was volunteering at a local animal shelter. It didn’t pay but it meant not talking to people.

The others said they didn’t have a problem with Ryan’s inability to hold a job but that didn’t mean they didn’t feel bad; not being able to pull their weight financially. They had a savings, sure, but they weren’t exactly bringing a fortune to Chicago. Ryan had had jobs of course, which is why they knew jobs blow. Jobs meant talking to strangers and talking to strangers meant getting judged by strangers. Now Ryan had strong skin, but all skin tears when stretched too far.

Ryan was pulled out of their thoughts by the door opening to the apartment. Brendon shuffled in, dropping his backpack on the floor next to the door. Tossing their book carelessly off the bed, Ryan rolled onto their side to watch as Brendon moved on autopilot. He tugged off his uniform shirt and toed off his shoes onto the bag, throwing the shirt on top of both of them. Reaching into the old refrigerator he pulled a box of juice out of the pack Spencer left last time he was over. Brendon poked the straw through the hole in the top and took a long pull through the plastic before flopping down next to Ryan.

“Ryan Ross.” Brendon sighed, putting the juice box next to the mattress on the floor before burrowing his face in Ryan’s chest. “I hate malls.” He whined, muffled by Ryan’s shirt. “And I miss Spence. When is he coming home?”

“Friday.” They reminded him, and when he whined louder Ryan pet his hair. Brendon had separation anxiety when it came to one of them leaving him for too long. Abandonment issues, Ryan figured and quite frankly, understood. They knew there was more to it than just missing him, but it wasn’t Ryan’s place. “Don’t pout, your face is your only redeeming quality and if it gets stuck like that you’re fucked.” They joked.

Brendon pulled away from Ryan’s chest. “Mean, Ross.” He feigned offence as he lifted his hips, shimmying out of his pants to lie down under the covers in his boxers. Ryan watched as he kicked his pants to the side and fished through a pile of DVDs next to the bed. He grabbed a loose disk and put it in the drive of the laptop. “Spoon me and watch The Lion King.” He demanded, and Ryan huffed.

“You’re like a fucking puppy.” But they complied, sliding one arm under Brendon’d head and the other around his waist. “Lucky I love The Lion King.”

The two of them watched the movie as the sun set around them, the laptop being the only light in the room. Brendon’s singing to himself vibrated their chest. It was nice, and Ryan couldn’t help but wonder if this is what every night would be like in Chicago. That sounded fine to them. The credits rolled across the screen, and Ryan pulled their arm out from under Brendon’s head.

“Jesus, Bren, I can’t feel my arm.” They sat up to shake out their arm and Brendon followed him, stretching own his own back. “I guess I have to get used to it since once Spencer gets back we’ll be rooming together.” Ryan wasn’t opposed to the idea of cuddling up to Brendon every night, apart from the fact that he’s like an octopus. “You all packed?”

Brendon surveyed the room and sighed. “I think so. Not like I had much to begin with.” He laughed, and Ryan frowned. Brendon crawled across the mattress and reached into a box. Ryan watched as he rummaged around for a moment until he pulled out an old quilt and draped it across the bed. Nevada summers got hot but at night, especially in Brendon’s shitty apartment, it got pretty cold.

Ryan watched as he took off his old frames and set them down on the laptop. Brendon crawled under the blanket and tangled their legs together; wiggling close enough so their noses were touching. A small smile was on his face, but the look in his eyes made Ryan’s stomach clench.They knew what Brendon must be feeling. Moving away meant accepting there was nothing left for them in Nevada. But, if there was one thing Ryan had learned over the years, family wasn’t blood. Ryan was determined to make Brendon understand that.

“We’re going to be okay, you and me.” Ryan assured his unvocalized fear, setting their hand on his hip and squeezing.

Brendon hummed, closing his eyes. “Yeah. Yeah, we’ll be just fine.”


	2. Chapter 2

The thing about Ryan was that they loved their shitty car. It had sat in the driveway of the Ross residence their entire life and even though his never said so, Ryan always assumed it was their mothers. But as it stayed untouched the entirety of their upbringing, it wasn’t in the best of shape. So the summer Ryan turned sixteen they, along with Spencer’s help, poured their heart into fixing it up. They called it The Wagon. They made sure it was drivable; it passed inspections every year and Ryan even took their road test in it the day they were eligible to do so. It had char marks from Spencer burning his fingers on forgotten cigarette and dropping the still glowing nub on the seat. It had a chip in the rearview mirror from where Brendon got too excited with a bouncy ball. It was Ryan’s baby.

That didn’t mean Ginger liked Ryan’s baby.

“Ginger!” Ryan exclaimed in the middle of the Smith kitchen, almost dropping a plate. “Of course The Wagon is coming with us to Chicago!” It was one month until their planned road trip, and Mrs. Smith was throwing wrenches.

Ginger took the dish from their hand and loaded it into the dish washer. “Ryan Ross.” She set her hand on her hip and Ryan’s brain screamed SPENCER. “You are not. Taking a station wagon. That’s older than you. Across the country.” She raised her eyebrow, daring them to argue with her.

“It’ll fit all our stuff!”

“So will a U-Haul.”

“It runs great!”

“So does a U-Haul.”

Ryan’s shoulders sagged. Picking up the pot their dinner had been cooked in, they rinsed it clean in the sink before handing it over to be put in the washer. They nodded, “You’re right.” And they knew she was, one-hundred percent. That didn’t mean Ryan wanted it.

Ginger pulled a spoon out of the sink and waved it at Ryan. “I’m just looking out for you three, okay?” Ryan nodded once more, and Ginger put the last of the dishes away. “Thank you for helping me, honey. You’re free to go.” Ryan had known her long enough to know what that meant. Argument over.

“Yes, Mrs. Smith.” They nodded, leaving the kitchen to head up to Spencer’s room without making eye contact. A lost argument is something knew very well, and Mrs. Smith was not a woman you won an argument with once she made up her mind.

Ryan let themself into Spencer’s room and locked the door behind them at the sight. Spencer laid on his back shirtless as Brendon laid between his legs, arm crossed under his head on top of his belly. Next to them a fan was pointing towards the open window, pulling the smell of cigarettes from the room. Ryan took note of Brendon’s hands.

Spencer took a drag before handing it off to Ryan, noticing them coming in the room without looking. “Oh thank fuck.” They sighed, taking a drag happily. Ryan wiggled out of their jeans and pressed their knee to the mattress. “Scoot over.” They instructed, and the two wiggled over to make room.

Brendon’s fingers traced the thick pink lines underneath his best friend’s nipples. “Isn’t Spencer so handsome?” Brendon asks Ryan, not looking at them. Ryan heard Spencer make a displeased sound in the back of his throat and handed him the remains of the cigarette.

Spencer kept the smoke in his mouth until it ran out; inhaling from one side of his mouth and exhaling from the other. When it was down to the butt, he deposited the remains in an old mug of coffee on his bedside table. “I wish I could smoke weed.” He sighed.

Ryan remembered the one and only time they ever smoked weed with Spencer. It was before the scars were on his chest, and it was just the two of them in the trunk of The Wagon. Spencer lit the joint between Ryan’s bony fingers and they brought it to their lips, taking a drag. Ryan blew the smoke away from Spencer’s face and handed it over. He copied Ryan’s actions and the two of them continued to pass it back and forth until it was gone.

They had sat together, swinging their feet out of the trunk, looking at the Nevada sky. Ryan felt better than ever, body slightly tingling. But Spencer was squirming and not in the cat-in-the-sun-please-rub-my-belly way Ryan wanted to. Spencer looked itchy.

“Y’okay?” They asked, rolling their head to look at their best friend. They sobered up at the sight.

Spencer was chewing on his lip, tears spilling over their eyes silently. “Hey hey hey.” Ryan immediately wrapped their hands around Spencer as he cried his eyes out in the back of The Wagon.

That’s the night they found out weed was known to have bad side-effects on those who heavily suffered from dysphoria. They hadn’t tried again since his top surgery, not wanting to risk it. Spencer didn’t smoke anything other than nicotine anymore.

Ryan leaned over and kissed Spencer’s nose. “Weed is overrated. Ice cream is where it’s at. Ice cream and nicotine.”

“That would be a good song.” Brendon smiled. He set his hand on either side of Spencer’s stomach and pushed himself up into his elbows. “Ice cream and nicotine. You should write that, Ross.” He bobbed his head back and forth. “Once you’re done / there’s no more dreams / only ice cream / and nicotine.”

Spencer laughed for the first time that night. “You’re so weird.” He ran his fingers through Brendon’s hair and scritched behind his ear. “You think my drums would even fit in The Wagon?” Spencer mused, pulling another cigarette out of the pack under his pillow and lighting it.

Ryan’s heart pulled. “Don’t know, but Ginger is against us taking the car.” They mumbled, but Brendon caught every word.

“Excuse me?” He exclaimed, sitting up on his knees. Spencer hissed for him to shut up before his mother came up to investigate, but Brendon ignored him. “That’s- that’s your baby!” Spencer handed Brendon the cigarette to shut him up.

“I know that.” Ryan wiggled their way under the blanket and rested their head against Spencer’s shoulder. “But what am I supposed to say? ‘This car is all I have left of my mother and I want to make memories in it that don’t involve me in a carseat in Nevada’?” It’s not that Ryan cared that much. They didn’t. It was years ago, and if she didn’t want an alcoholic husband and a dumb little kid? That’s her prerogative.

They took the cigarette from Brendon’s mouth and silently dared either of them to try and take it from them.

Brendon collapsed back on top of Spencer, pulling an “oof” out of the shirtless boy. “This summer was supposed to be fun.” He huffed. “Instead Ginger’s trying to kill The Wagon and Spencer doesn’t think he’s a gorgeous hunk of a man.” He tilted his head to wiggle his eyebrows at Spencer, who in turn shoved Brendon’s face.

“I am a cute piece of a boy at best.” He monotoned before changing the subject back to Ryan. “We’re taking The Wagon.” Spencer looked Ryan dead in the eyes, a sense of determination in his tone. “I’ll talk to her, it’ll be fine.”

-

They’re not sure what Spencer said to his mother, and Ryan’s too afraid to ask, but the week before their moving date the three teens were sat knee-to-knee on the couch. In front of them, Ginger stood with her arms crossed.

“There are rules.” She looked each of them in the eye. There was even pointing.

“Should I be taking notes?” Spencer quirked and eyebrow, and Ryan repressed their snicker as Spencer received a glare. “Sorry, continue with the rules, I’ll make mental notes.” Brendon wiggled with excitement between them.

The rules were as follows: Ryan is to take their car in for a checkup the day before they all leave. They are to take shifts driving so no one falls asleep at the wheel. If everyone is too tired, they are to go to a rest stop and nap. Every five-hundred miles they must check the tire pressure. The Wagon is to never get below one-forth a tank of gas.

When she finished her speech, Mrs. Smith raised her chin. “These rules are all completely reasonable if I’m going to be letting my boys and Ryan across the country.”

Ryan nodded. “The way you said that implied that you cared about them more than me, but I know I’m your favorite so it’s okay.” They stood up and hugged Ginger. “Your rules are fair and just and I will take The Wagon to the shop tomorrow.”

Brendon jumped out of his seat and wrapped his arms around the two of them. “Spencer Smith come over here and hug me hugging Ryan hugging your mom!” He shouted, and Ryan was pretty sure they only lost most of their hearing from his screaming. Spencer complied with a huff and rolled eyes, but Ryan could always tell when his frown was really a smile.

-

In the driveway, Ryan laid out on the hood of their car; sunglasses on their face and legs stretched out in front of them. It wasn’t even eight am yet; Ryan had figured starting early gave them a head start. On what, they weren’t sure. From their sunbathing spot, commotion could be heard coming in and out of the house.

“Ryan, could you at least try to pretend that you’re helping?” A stack of boxes covered the face, but Ryan could tell Spencer’s bitchy tone anywhere. The Spencer-sounding boxes with legs made their way down the path to the driveway and unceremoniously dropped to a pile by the trunk. “These are your books, you know.” He huffed. Spencer kicked one of Ryan’s legs out from under them and they scrambled to catch themself on the hood of the car before they could fall.

Pushing their sunglasses up into their hair, Ryan threw a bitch face at Spencer’s smug one. They sighed and moved to the trunk, organizing labelled boxes in the trunk. It’s like groceries, they thought. Bread on top of potatoes, clothes on top of books. Stuff they wouldn’t need until they unpacked, like DVDs and photos, went in the trunk. Stuff they’d need on the road, like the cooler, the two guitars, and the box of weed and cigarettes labelled ‘CDS’.

“Brendon’s getting the cooler.” Spencer informed as his best friend moved around boxes. Once Brendon realized they’d be in the car for several days, which means several in-car meals, he got very excited about the thought of putting together little snacks for all of them. Both of them suspected it may just end up being energy drinks and juice boxes.

Spencer went back inside to get more boxes, and Ryan glanced into the backseat. They hadn’t even thought about leaving their instruments in Nevada. Unfortunately for Spencer his wouldn’t fit in The Wagon, but his parents were shipping them out after things were settled. Ryan made a mental note to get Brendon to play mariachi music with them while Spencer drove to see how long it was before he snapped.

The front door shut and Ryan looked away from the instruments to see the entirety of the Smith family on the front lawn. Ryan noted that Mr. Smith was carrying the cooler while Brendon sucked on a juice box. Ryan moved out of the way to let him put the cooler away. Brendon bobbed his head to put on his sunglasses as he leaned on the car next to Ryan. “Ginger keeps randomly crying.” Brendon informs them.

“She’s realizing she’s just left with the twins now.” Ryan joked, and Brendon let out a snort. Spencer came over and put the last box in the trunk.

He leaned on Brendon’s other side and shot them both a glare. “You two are fucking useless.” Spencer let his head fall against the roof of the car.

“Okay okay, time for goodbyes before the waterworks start.” Jeff instructed. Spencer pushed back off the car and walked over to his sisters. Ryan let his eyes drift over to Brendon and noticed his eyes softened as Spencer pulled the twins into a group hug.

Ginger walked over to the car and stood in front of the two of them. “Brendon, don’t let those two bully you.” She instructed, taking his face in her hands and kissing his forehead. Brendon laughed and wrapped his arms around her waist.

“I won’t, Mrs. Smith.” He confirmed, squeezing her around the middle before letting go. He moved off to the side to speak to Spencer’s father, and Ryan was grateful for the privacy.

“You say anything to your father?” She asked them, voice low so only Ryan could hear. They didn’t reply, and she took their answer from the silence. But what did she expect? For Ryan to go back into their childhood home, hope their father was conscious, and let him know they were leaving for good this time? No, they thought, it was better not to reopen an old wound just to have to close it again.

Ginger cupped their face just as she did Brendon’s and when Ryan looked her in the eyes, they saw red-rimmed tears. They willed themself to swallow the lump in their throat. “Ginger-“

She wrapped her arms around them and pulled them in tight. “You’re going to do amazing things.” She whispered into their ear, rubbing their back. “Make sure to send this old woman a copy of your first novel when it comes out.” It wasn’t said as a joke and Ryan didn’t take it as one.

“Love you too, Mrs. Smith.” They whispered, squeezing her back before letting their mother go.

Spencer and Brendon came back over to the two of them and the Smith family stepped back onto the lawn in front of the three. “Alright.” Ginger exclaimed, clearing her throat. “Don’t forget to check in every two hours and don’t,” emphasis on ‘don’t’, “forget the rules.” There was a chorus of “yes Mrs. Smith” with a side of “yes mom” and she smiled wide. “Good! Now,” she pulled a camera out the purse under her arm and took a few more steps back, “smile for me and then it’s off you go.”

Brendon wrapped an arm around each of their waists and yelled “CHEESE!”

-

The Wagon didn’t have a CD player. It had a radio you had to tune to get channels, and a cassette player. Ryan had a habit of only buying music on cassette, not seeing the point of buying music they can’t listen to. The box of said tapes resided in Brendon’s lap in the backseat and had doubled its contents in the last twenty-four hours; Brendon and Spencer having added their own to the collection.

The first portion of the trip was filled with loud music and rolled-down windows. Brendon stuck his torso out the window and screamed, and they’d let him. The first time. Spencer alternated between scolding Brendon and laughing at him. Ryan sang loudly along to the music that filled the car, swapping tapes out with Brendon every time one ended. Happiness, they decided in that moment, was taking chances with your best friends.

Aside from pulling off for gas, their first required Ginger-stop should have been in Colorado. Instead, Ryan had ended up pulling off the highway about forty miles outside of the border in Utah. Quietly, Ryan had made it their mission to pick up a postcard from every state they drove through. If that required stopping before they reached five-hundred miles? So be it.

Ryan turned the key in the ignition as Spencer reached into the glovebox for the pencil gauge. The three got out of the car and Brendon followed Ryan into the rest stop as Spencer kneeled next to the tires. Brendon jumped around them as they walked. “God I have to pee.” He exclaimed, pulling the door open wide enough to allow Ryan to enter as they headed towards the postcards.

A twirling display featured multiple postcards of the state. Ones featuring statues Ryan didn’t get to see, mountains Ryan didn’t know the names of, and ones of the two collaged together. The collage seemed the safest, Ryan decided, picking out the tackiest one.

They bought their postcard and made a quick trip to the bathroom while Brendon was still meandering. In the parking lot, Spencer laid out on the hood in the mid-day sun. Noticing he didn’t see them coming, Ryan licked their finger before shoving it in their best friend’s ear.

Spencer slid off the hood with a startled yelp. He glared up at Ryan, scrubbing at his ear with the heel of his hand. “I change my mind! I’m going back to Vegas!” Spencer threatened from the ground.

“You are?” The two of them turn their heads and Brendon had joined them, slushie in one hand and plastic shopping bag in the other.

Ryan looked down at Spencer as he pushed himself to his feet, brushing off his pants. “No no, Bren. Ryan’s just a dick.” He threw a glare at Ryan, who in turn handed him the keys. “Brendon gets shotgun.” It wasn’t a question, and Ryan rolled their eyes.

Brendon happily got in the car next to Spencer and immediately started prattling on about how the slush machine didn’t have blue raspberry. Ryan got in the backseat at saw the way Spencer’s eyes crinkled at the edges when Brendon laughed.

-

Ryan rearranged the backseat so there were no boxes on the bench and stretched their legs out, back to the door. Spencer had gotten tired of the radio and had requested Ryan strum something. They played gently, a comforting white noise in an otherwise silent car.

But Brendon didn’t do long stretches of silence. An hour into Spencer’s driving he’s started bouncing his legs. A half hour after the leg bouncing he started pulling at his own hair. Spencer grabbed his hand to save their friend from premature baldness. “Dude,” He frowned, glancing at him quickly as to avoid looking away from the road. “What’s up? You’re going to wear a hole in the floor if you keep tapping your foot.” Ryan’s eyes darted down to see Spencer rub his thumb across the back of Brendon’s palm.

“How did you guys know you weren’t straight?” Brendon blurted out. Ryan stopped playing the guitar. This was it. It was happening. Spencer caught their eyes in the rearview mirror.

Ryan set aside their guitar and pushed themself to sit on the edge of the bench, crossing their arms on the headrest between Spencer and Brendon. “I thought boys were cute.” They said honesty. “I didn’t want to be them, I wanted to impress them. I wanted them to want to impress me. All the same things I wanted from girls. Imagined kissing them and fucking them.” Brendon let out a squeak, but Ryan continued. “Then I-“ They sighed, and their breath came out shaky. “I looked it up. On the internet. Got deep into blogs and shit about queer people. Labels I hadn’t heard before. Remember Spence?”

“I remember.” Spencer grinned at them in the mirror. “You ran into my room with fucking printed out LiveJournal blog pages and yelled ‘I DON’T HAVE A GENDER AND EVERYONE’S HOT’.”

Brendon laughed. “And what did you say?” He asked curiously, and Ryan noted his bouncing had stopped.

“I agreed.” Spencer laughed. “Well, with some amendments.” He added. “I’d always known I was attracted to people no matter their gender. Mom says I used to tell her I was going to marry David Bowie.” Ryan couldn’t hold in their snort. “But until Ryan mentioned them not having a gender, I didn’t know it was like. Okay to not feel okay with the body you had, y’know?”

Ryan turned their head to look at Brendon, and their expression softened. “How’d you know you were’t straight, Brendon?” They asked gently.

Brendon let go of Spencer’s hand to wring his own together. The Wagon fell silent for a moment, and neither of them pushed. He sucked his lower lip between his teeth and chewed for a moment. “There was a boy in Sunday School.” He admitted for what Ryan assumed was the first time. “He had freckles and really…really nice eyes.” The deep orange of the sky illuminated the shine in his eyes. “We sat next to each other. He- he talked to me about the other girls in our class, and he talked about them the way I thought about him.”

He leaned over and picked up the bag from the rest top. Ryan had assumed he’d purchased candy or something, but when he reached in he pulled out a tiny statue of a fancy building. “You guys know what this is?” He asked the two of them; they both shook their heads. “This is the Salt Lake Temple.” Brendon informed. “Largest Latter-Day Saints temple in the world.” He turned the little statue around in his fingers, inspecting it. “It always seemed so big…now look. Fits in the palm of my hand.”

No one said anything else. Brendon continued to look at the statue.

The sun had completely set around them. Spencer pulled off the highway for gas.

-

Their second mandatory tire check was at a rest stop on the border of Colorado and Nebraska and Ryan was able to kill two postcard birds with one store. When they got back to the car, Brendon was still asleep against the window; glasses discarded on the bench beside him. He’d decided to take a nap after their feelings time to prepare himself for the night shift.

Ryan walked out of the shop with two coffees in either hand, two postcards tucked into their back pocket. They spotted Spencer sitting at one of the picnic tables in front of The Wagon. “Hey.” They said softly, alerting Spencer of their presence. His chin was resting in one hand, a cigarette in the other. Ryan set the drinks on the table and grabbed the pack and lighter to take their own. They flipped the pack open and pulled one out with their lips, flicked the lighter, and took a long drag. Blowing the air towards the sky, Ryan ashed the stick. “Wanna talk about it?”

Spencer smoked his entire cigarette before answering. “Yeah, yeah. I just.” He paused, snubbing the butt on the table. “He’s not unattracted to me because I’m a guy, he’s unattracted to me because I’m me.” Ryan could barely hear the words, but they did. They slid on the bench so their sides were completely touching, and Spencer started to cry.

Ryan held Spencer as he smoked two more cigarettes in quick succession before sitting up straight. He scrubbed his eyes with his fingertips and shoved his stuff back in his pockets. They pulled their phone out to check the time: eleven pm. The two of them stood up and made their way to The Wagon, two warm coffees in Ryan’s hands.

Spencer gently woke Brendon up, handing him the coffee before he slid into the backseat, kicked off his shoes, and closed his eyes. When Ryan looked up at the sky, they saw only stars.

-

The next five-hundred miles went by slowly. The roads were empty as Brendon drove through darkness. Ryan had outlawed the radio as to avoid waking up Sleeping Beauty in the backseat. Instead, they talked.

“I wonder what jobs we’ll get in Chicago.” Brendon’s coffee-fueled mind wondered, taking a hand off the wheel to fidget with his glasses. “Spencer and I should work more than you.” Ryan’s eyebrows furrowed together, and he elaborated. “You’re getting a major AND a minor. You have to do more school, we have to do more work.”

It made sense, technically. Morally, Ryan didn’t like pulling less weight than other people. They nodded. “Maybe.” Ryan offered, and it’s all they can give.

Brendon nodded, and his fingers clenched the steering wheel. “I’m afraid of this not working out.” He admitted quietly.

Brendon found comfort in closeness, so Ryan moved themself to the middle of the bench and rested their head on Brendon’s shoulder. Their knees rested on Brendon’s thighs. “Please don’t crash my car I’m not wearing a seatbelt.” Ryan requested. Brendon bumped their heads together in agreement. “What are you afraid of?”

“What aren’t I afraid of?” He laughed bitterly. “My whole life it was family and God. Now I have neither. And if they ever did somehow change everything about themselves and decide I can be a Godless heathen, I’d still have this to hide from them.” Ryan nuzzled his shoulder, and Brendon bumped their heads together. “I want to be someone who- who deserves him. Or someone like him, if I can’t have the real thing.” His voice dropped to a whisper. Ryan watched him glance in the rearview mirror at the backseat. “I don’t even know what I am.”

They were more alike than Ryan would ever acknowledge. Both two kids forced to quietly grow up too fast.

“You don’t have to be or know anything.” Ryan whispered. They reached down onto the floor and grabbed their bag. Flipping through the well-worn book, Ryan stopped on the highlighted section they needed.

“ _‘_ _I’m not straight, and I'm not gay. I’m not bisexual.’_.” Ryan read, not looking over at Brendon. “ _‘I want out of the labels. I don't want my whole life crammed into a single word. A story. I want to find something else, unknowable, some place to be that's not on the map. A real adventure.’_ ” They closed the book and set it on the part of the bench they’d abandoned. They tilted their chin to hook it over Brendon’s shoulder. “It’s okay to not know things. And it’s okay to let people help you.” A lesson Ryan had been trying to learn for a long time.

Brendon let one hand fall from the steering wheel and wrapped his arm around Ryan’s waist. “Tell me more about you and Spence as kids.”

Ryan settled easily into Brendon’s side. If there’s anything Ryan was good at, it was this. “When we were seven…”

-

The sun was’t yet rising as they pulled into the gas station, but the sky had a yellow glow that let them know it was coming. When the car came to a full stop, Spencer began to stir. Ryan uncurled themself from Brendon’s lap and stretched their arms. “I’m going to go get coffee for you two, I’ll pump gas when I get back.” Brendon’s tired smile followed them out of the car. They could faintly hear Brendon wish him good morning as they let themself into the store.

After adding their latest stop to their mental list of gas stations without gender neutral bathrooms, Ryan purchased two coffees and gave the attendant a twenty for pump three. When they got back outside, Spencer had taken over Ryan’s spot. Ryan opened Spencer’s side door and handed in the two coffees. They left the door open as they pumped the gas and listened to Spencer tell Brendon about the octopus in his dreams.

Closing the gas cap, Ryan walked around to the driver’s door. “Backseat time, Urie.” They opened the door and ushered him out, but he didn’t move.

“Spence is gonna drive.” Brendon tells them, gesturing to their friend who was happily guzzling coffee. “Yes we know it’s technically your turn, but you’ve been awake since yesterday.” Brendon got out of the car so Spencer could slide behind the wheel. “It’s okay to let people help you.” Brendon whispered before kissing their cheek and taking over shotgun.

Ryan got in the backseat and stretched their legs out on the bench. Reaching into the trunk, they pulled one of Brendon’s quilts out from their joint belongings and set it in their laps. They looked around in the cassettes on the floor and when they found what they were looking for they handed it up front. “This one?” Ryan asked, realizing all at once how tired they really were.“And don’t let me sleep through Iowa.”

“We won’t.” Spencer assured them, his own voice still rough with sleep. Brendon took the cassette from Ryan as Spencer put the car in gear.

They sunk down across the bench and closed their eyes; the rumble of the engine, their friends talking, and Strangers in the Night lulling them to sleep.

-

Ryan woke up to someone touching their hair. Blinking the sleep from their eyes, the cracked them open to see Brendon looking down on them. It’s then Ryan noticed their head was in his lap. “Good morning.” Brendon smiled, touching the tip of Ryan’s nose. “We’re almost in Illinois. Spence is inside getting me Skittles if you want to go pee or something.”

They sat up slowly, Brendon’s hand dropping from their hair. Ryan stretched their arms. “So did you…” They quirked their eyebrow, and Brendon just blinked.

“Did I what?” He asked, confused.

“Y’know.” Ryan pressed. “Talk to Spencer about you big unlabeled-sexuality crush on him.” Brendon’s face turned redder than Ryan had ever seen, which gave them their answer.

“No.” He hissed, leaning in close as though Spencer wasn’t one-hundred feet away inside a store. “We talked about literally everything but my sexuality so if you could please shut up I would be very very grateful.”

If it was anything else, Ryan would poke. Ryan would prod. But this was something the two of them had to figure out on their own. “I won’t.” They assured him. Ryan found their shoes and pulled them on before grabbing their bag off the floor. “I’m gonna go piss and not talk to Spencer about how you want to marry him and have a thousand babies.” Brendon spluttered and Ryan laughed their entire way into the shop. This one only had one family bathroom; they counted it as a win.

Spencer was poking around in the candy isle when Ryan came out of the bathroom. He was carding his fingers through his hair, looking at his choices. “Which Skittles should I get?” He mused, feeling Ryan near him. Ryan stepped closer as Spencer continued. “There’s the packet and there’s the king-sized packet-“

They frowned. “Spencer-“

“-and there’s the movie theater box and there’s the bag I should probably get the bag, right? It has the most in it-“

“Spencer.” Ryan snapped. Spencer looked up at them then, and Ryan noticed for the first time the bags under his eyes. “You okay?” They asked genuinely. He’d driven the most out of all of them; left the most behind.

“I-“ He paused, choosing his words carefully before continuing. “I don’t know.” He said honestly.

Ryan hugged Spencer tight. After a moment, he hugged back. “Get the king-size.” Ryan instructed. “It’s less sugar than the bag but it’ll keep him entertained.” They patted Spencer on the back before pulling back; leaving him there to go find the postcards.

They bought the one with Herbert Hoover’s childhood home on it. While at the counter, something caught their eye and they threw it down to buy as well.

Spencer was already in the car when Ryan came out. Brendon was laying in the backseat while Spencer leaned around to talk to him. Getting behind the wheel, Ryan tossed a lighter in Spencer’s lap. He picked it up and read the image on the side. “ _‘I light this with the same hand i use to jerk off. Aren’t you glad you stole it?’_.” Spencer groaned and Brendon cackled. “Brendon hand me my cigarettes before I murder the driver.”

Brendon handed him the pack and Spencer handed them each a cigarette. The three lit up and filled the cabin with smoke. Ryan let out the emergency break and pulled away from the pump. They wouldn’t pull the break again until Chicago.


	3. Chapter 3

“Yes- yes mom we’re outside the apartment.” Ryan smiled as Spencer bickered with his mother, phone wedged between his ear and his shoulder.“What do you- yes I’m sure! I was here three months ago! I signed the paperwork!” Ryan suppressed their laughter as Spencer apologized to his mother for raising his voice. Spencer set his boxes down on the floor and finally found his keys, ending his phone call with a huff and an “I love you”. “Fuck, alright, here we are. three-oh-seven.”

Ryan had only seen photos of the apartment before they stepped foot inside. It wasn’t anything special; an open area when you walked in that was clearly intended to be a living room and a dining area, two bedrooms, a bathroom, and a tiny kitchen. It was a completely ordinary apartment, but Ryan swooned at the window. It’s why they’d fought so hard to live in this building, swearing up and down they’d get as many jobs as possible and put all their savings into it if they could have this building. Ryan could picture themself sitting it that bay window on their first snowy day in Chicago; book in one hand tea in the other.

This was home.

“Oh, wow!” Brendon exclaimed, dropping boxes by the door. “We can go to the thrift store and get furniture and oh, a big dining room table to go right here!” Ryan watched as he walked around the open floors and planned out their interior. Ryan turned to raise an eyebrow at Spencer, but he was too busy smiling at Brendon.

“We need to get the rest of the boxes.” Ryan announced, getting Spencer’s attention. “Preferably before Susie Homemaker over here starts-“ Ryan gestured to Brendon, but he was gone. “BRENDON!” They called out.

“I’M SEEING WHICH ROOM IS BIGGER!” He yelled back, and Ryan rolled their eyes. They’d come to a decision that Spencer and Brendon should room together. It made sense; the two music majors rooming together making noise while the english major sits in solitude. Ryan couldn’t wait for a month from now when Spencer was having a breakdown about constantly being so close to Brendon.

Spencer sighed, setting the boxes where there table will eventually go and turning out of the apartment. “Let’s go get the fucking boxes.” Ryan paused before following, looking again at the room.

Home.

-

After bringing all the boxes inside, Ryan left Brendon and Spencer to set up their bedroom. Warm summer air hit their face along with a cool breeze Nevada never had. It sent a chill up their spine despite the warmth. They slung their bag higher up their shoulder as they set off in the direction of the thrift store. If Spencer got to pick the apartment and Brendon got to pick the bedrooms, Ryan got to pick the furniture.

As they walked, they let their mind wander. Chicago was as big as they imagined it would be, but not once did they feel suffocated. In Nevada, the miles and miles of nothing had been suffocating. The buildings around them all had purposes besides augmented fun.

Eventually they came across a second-hand shop. When Ryan pushed open the door, they were hit with the smell of mothballs and nicotine. It was heaven.

They walked up and down the isles and picked out everything for the apartment. Ryan managed to find some perfect pieces; a mod-style tv stand and a dining table set that matched. A long, striped couch caught Ryan’s eye and they made a mental note to buy pillows that matched the upholstery for the window bench. They picked out a coffee table that matched everything, and almost cried when they found a vintage record table.

Ryan got an employee to come over and put everything on hold so Ryan could make arrangements to come pick it all up. As they were about to head over to the dishes, something caught their eye poking out from behind an old entertainment center. Walking over, Ryan took one look and couldn’t help the grin that stretched across their face.

“Excuse me?” They called over to the employee currently tagging all their purchases. “I’d like this as well, please.”

-

Ryan greatly overestimated their strength as they walked down the street; bags of dishes, cups, and utensils hanging off their arms.Logically they knew they were probably only halfway to their building but they couldn’t help but be lured in by the Starbucks sign a few shops ahead of them. It had been a while since Ryan had drank coffee that they hadn’t made themself, as they were saving money for the move. But as they’d just bought everything they were saving up for, they let themself push the door open.

Standing in front of the counter, they frowned at the menu. It had been too long; Ryan no longer fluent in bullshit coffee terms. Luckily, the barista seemed to understand that.

“You need help?” The employee asked, a smile on his face. Ryan’s eyes moved from the board to the man speaking. He didn’t look much older than Ryan, but he also had a beard and Ryan had permanent baby face so really everyone looked older than them. Despite how young he looked, he had laughter lines next to his eyes and Ryan bet if he let his smile fall they’d be next to his mouth as well.

Ryan huffed, shrugging the bags back up their elbows. “Yeah.” They admitted. “What’s going to give me a heart attack and taste delicious while doing so?” They asked seriously.

His laugh caught Ryan off guard. “I can give you a venti caffè mocha and make it a double shot of espresso?” He suggests, but then raised his eyebrows. “Or I could make it a triple if you want to have the heart attack before you can get your…” His eyes darted from the bags to Ryan. “cups home?”

He had a lisp. Without even being aware of it, Ryan smiled. “Let’s make it a double shot so you don’t have to be responsible for killing me.”

“They’ll say I did it for the dishes.” He nodded seriously as he pulled out a cup and a marker. “Name?”

“Ryan.” They supplied. The barista nodded, wrote down their name, and rang up their order. He went over to make their drink, and Ryan made their way over to a seat.

The bags slid off their arms onto a table, and Ryan double-checked to make sure nothing broke. They wiggled their arms out, flexing their fingers to get the blood flowing again. Looking over their bags, their eyebrows knit together. Hopefully Spencer wouldn’t throw too much of a fit over all the mismatched dishes.

A clearing throat took them out of their thoughts. They looked up and the barista was standing in front of them. “Here you go.” He smiled, offering Ryan the cup.

They took it with confusion. “Aren’t you supposed to, like, call my name? Isn’t that the point of me giving my name?” The inquired, and the man shrugged lazily.

“Yeah, but your arms looked like they needed rest, so no harm in bringing it over.” He was still smiling, something Ryan would bet he did a lot of. “Enjoy your heart attack.”

He was gone before Ryan could even thank him; back behind the counter taking more orders. As they sipped their drink, warm vanilla filling their nose, Ryan realized the barista got their name but they never bothered to get his. They wouldn’t ask.

-

Spencer’s bitching was minor when Ryan came home with all their dish-ware, but when they made their case that this way it would seem intentional and artistic when Bren smashed a glass and they had to replace it, Spencer huffed and let it go.

Brendon bounded into the room at the sound of Ryan’s voice and hooked his chin over Ryan’s shoulder. “You smell good.” He pushed his nose into Ryan’s cheek.

They put a cup onto a rack, reaching behind them to scruff Brendon’s hair. “Stopped at Starbucks.” They explained, and Brendon was satisfied with that answer.

“We should all get up and make coffee tomorrow before the moving truck shows up.” Brendon mused, looking at the lone coffee maker on their counter.

Ryan threw in some solution and started the washer before turning to their friends. “We also need to use the moving truck to get our furniture from the thrift store and before you make some rude comment no, I didn’t buy anything with feathers.” They shot a look at Spencer, who raised his hands in innocence.

“Can we have a sleepover?” Brendon asked, looking between the two of them.

Spencer quirked an eyebrow. “Brendon we live together. It’s, like, permanent sleepover.” He pointed out.

“No, I mean.” Brendon didn’t finish his sentence, but headed back into the living room. Ryan followed him, Spencer training behind. In the middle of the floor, Brendon was emptying the boxes of blankets and comforters. “We can pile them all together and we can sleep in the middle of the floor. Like, a big cuddle.”

Ryan looked at Spencer to see Spencer looking back at them. The two sighed in unison and kicked off their shoes. Brendon made a happy sound before stripping down to his boxers and dumping his worn clothes into the now empty linens box. He flopped down on his blanket pile before watching the other two undress.

“Stop being a perv.” Ryan scolded, stripping down to their underwear and tank top and crawling down next to Brendon. Spencer also elected to keep on his t-shirt as he sat down on the floor next to Ryan.

“No, wait.” Brendon opposed and before they could ask why, Brendon was rolling over Ryan; wedging himself between his two friends.

“Brendon what the fuck?” Spencer hissed, shifting back to make room for his friend. Brendon wiggled until he was Spencer’s little spoon, facing Ryan.

“The middle is the best.” He explained, tugging Spencer’s arms so that he was using one as a pillow and the over was over his hip. “You’re like a radiator, Spencer Smith.” Brendon sighed, taking Ryan’s free hand and holding it in his own. Ryan wiggled closer so their head was on Spencer’s hand; their and Brendon’s noses practically touching.

Spencer rolled his eyes, but didn’t take his hands off Brendon. “Yeah yeah, the fat friend has the most body heat.” He yelped when a foot kicked him in the shin.

“No being mean to yourself.” Brendon said firmly. “We live in Chicago now. Chicago is a Spencer James Smith appreciation zone, okay?” He turned his head to look at Spencer over his shoulder.

Spencer hooked his chin over Brendon’s shoulder and bumped their noses together. “Okay.” He agreed, and Brendon got comfortable again, closing his eyes.

Ryan squeezed his hand and watched as he managed to drift off to sleep in record time. After days of sleeping in shifts in a car, sleep came easy to all of them that night as they drifted off together on the floor of their apartment.

-

Brendon kicked in his sleep, Ryan remembered as a combination of a kick to the shins and the sun shining through their living room windows woke them up. Blinking the sleep from their eyes, Ryan noticed that at some point in the night Brendon had let go of Ryan’s hand to hold Spencer’s. It made them smile as they quietly got up without disturbing the others’. They went into the kitchen and set up a pot of coffee before making their way to their room.

Their was a slight tremor to their hands as they opened the door. Sun came in through the windows, the handful of boxes on the floor. Everything they owned in this little room. But it was their room. All theirs. Not a too-small bedroom with no lock on the door, not a renovated basement. Their room. Ryan sat down on the floor and closed their eyes. The only sounds were those of the city, and their own breathing. Ryan opened their eyes, took a deep breath, and started unboxing.

-

Finally dressed in jeans and a tank top, Ryan left their room once the coffee pot started to beep. On the floor, Spencer and Brendon stirred. “Y’make coffee?” Brendon slurred, untucking himself from Spencer’s chest.

“You’ll have to get up and get it.” Ryan called from the kitchen, pouring themself a cup into a mug shaped like a fox head. “Movers will be here in an hour, so put on some pants you nudist.” They scolded, hand wrapping around the tail handle.

Brendon padded into the kitchen and slotted his hips against Ryan’s thigh, rolling his hips lazily against his friend. “I’m hot, don’t lie.” He teased, giving Ryan a quick kiss before finding himself a mug.

A third pair of shuffling feet came in the room and Ryan smirked into their mug as Brendon fumbled with the cup he pulled from the washing machine. Spencer frowned, eyes scrunched together. His hair stuck up in every direction, shirt pushed up to his bellybutton, and his cheeks were red with sleep lines. “Coffee?” He asked.

Brendon shoved his mug at Spencer. “Here you can have this one I need to go find my shoes.” He rushed out, and Spencer barely got a grip on the “world’s best grandma” mug as Brendon ran out of the room.

Spencer blinked. “I hope he puts on pants before the shoes.” He mused, and Ryan couldn’t hold in the laughter anymore as they poured their best friend a cup.

-

Spencer dropped to his knees and hugged his drum kit once it was unloaded into his bedroom. “I missed you so much.” He cooed, wrapping his arms around the kick drum.

As Ryan watched the movers bring in the last of their stuff, they stopped at Brendon. Brendon, who was watching Ryan and Spencer’s furniture come in their home. Brendon, who only had two boxes of things.

They hitched their thumb to the door. “I’m going to go pick up the couch and shit.” They got Brendon’s attention. He moved to follow Ryan, and it hurt them to turn him down. “Stay and make sure Spencer doesn’t backseat build the movers?”

Brendon nodded far too many times and put a grin on his face. “Go! I’m excited to see whatever ugly couch you bought.”

Ryan just rolled their eyes and went to meet the moving van. Hopefully Brendon wouldn’t be too mad about his gift.

-

“You good?” Spencer chuckled as Ryan came back into their apartment an hour later, face red as they put a stack of dining room chairs in the corner.

“Fuck. You.” Ryan huffed. They leaned against the wall and caught their breath. “Listen,” They whispered to Spencer. “I got something for Brendon and I don’t. I’m worried he’s going to get upset about it.”

Spencer crossed his arms. “What could you possibly-“

His question was interrupted by a pair of movers coming in the front door. “Where’s the bed frame going?” The man asked.

Ryan felt Spencer’s eyes on the back of their head as they lead the movers down to Brendon and Spencer’s room. The man in question was sitting on the edge of Spencer’s bed, feet swimming over his own mattress.

“You’re back!” Brendon grinned, hopping off the edge of the bed. “Is the couch here?”

Ryan nodded. “Listen, don’t get mad.” They prefaced. Brendon frowned, confused.

“Why would I be mad abou- what is that?” His eyes moved from Ryan to the two movers in the doorway, then to the disassembled bed frame in their arms. Ryan stepped to the side as the movers lifted Brendon’s mattress against the wall and set the frame down on the floor. Ryan grabbed Brendon’s wrist and led them into the living room to give the movers room to work.

“You bought me a bed?” Brendon asked, confused. Ryan looked to Spencer for help, but Spencer pretended to be busy inspecting the stitching on the couch.

“A frame.” Ryan corrected. “I didn’t- It’s a used bed frame, Brendon, it’s not a big deal.” Ryan wanted to do something nice for Brendon; didn’t want him to feel like he was starting off on a different level than the rest of them. “It wasn’t expensive or anythi-“

“You bought me. A bed.” Brendon said carefully. He looked Ryan in they eyes for an affirmation; they nodded.

Ryan let go of Brendon’s arm. “You were sleeping on the floor, Bren.” They mumbled. Ryan watched Spencer make himself scarce, probably going to watch the movers and protect his drums. “I get it. I do. And it’s not charity. It’s not me feeling sorry for you. It’s me wanting my friend to be happy.”

Brendon’s jaw fell open slightly before he stepped forward; crushing Ryan in a hug. “I am happy.” Brendon sniffled into their shoulder. “I am.”

Ryan’s heart pulled, and their arms wrapped around Brendon and crushed just as tight. “Yeah,” they squeezed. “me too.”


	4. Chapter 4

Classes came around quicker than any of them expected. Spencer and Brendon were swept up in freshman orientations and mixers while Ryan already had stacks of assignments. Ryan didn’t mind the work; if there’s one thing Ryan could do, it was write. Writing was a comfort.

It was two weeks into the school year that Ryan ended up joining the school newspaper. They’d had no plans of doing so, but when they saw a flyer for it on a bulletin board in the English building they made their decision right on the spot.

The double-checked that they were outside the right classroom before opening the door. When inside, there were only a handful of people in the room. Two people sat at a table in a corner of the room, while two others stood at a computer. Ryan closed the door behind them, which lead to all the eyes turning to them.

“Um.” They looked down at the flyer in their hand and swallowed hard. “Is this the ne-“

“Pretty double espresso guy!”

Ryan’s eyes shot up and there, leaning over the computer next to a blonde, was the barista from the other day. Their fingers curled into the paper in their fist, crumbling it slightly.

“Hi, presumptuous nameless barista.” Ryan’s brain latched onto the ‘guy’ comment, but tried to be polite. Instead of a green apron and black polo, nameless barista was dressed down in a hoodie, ripped jeans, and flip flops.

The blonde stood up from the computer, and smacked the back of the barista’s head. “Don’t assume things, Jonathan.” The blonde walked over to Ryan and held out a hand. “Hi, Linda, she/her pronouns. I run the newspaper and thank fuck I do, considering I’m the only journalism major on the team.”

Ryan’s brain cleared slightly and took her hand. “Ryan. Uh, they/them pronouns.” Linda let go of their hand and smiled.

“Sorry. I’m learning.” The barista, Jon, apologized. He awkwardly pulled on the collar of his hoodie. “Let me start over. Hi, I’m Jon. He/him pronouns. Nice to officially meet you.”

“Jon here is our photojournalist, and our town idiot.” Linda explains, directing Ryan to a desk as Jon went back to the computer. “Now that the awkwardness if over, you want to work for the paper?” She sat behind the desk and folded her hands, looking up at Ryan.

Ryan took a breath. “Yes.” They nodded. This was what they were good at. “I’m a second year creative writing major with a minor in literature. My main focus is on fictional narrative and poetry, but I’m flexible.”

Linda leaned back in her chair and grinned up at Ryan. “If you’re a second year, why didn’t you join the paper last year?” She asked.

“I just transferred from University of Nevada, Las Vegas.” Ryan informed. “My best friends are a year younger than me, so I waited a year, got the credits I needed in Vegas, and transferred here with them for their freshman year.”

Linda nodded. “We meet on Tuesdays but I’m almost always here. Segments are due by Friday as the paper goes out on Sundays.”

Ryan blinked. “You don’t want to see, like, a writing sample?” They asked. They weren’t asking for Linda to change her mind, they just wanted to make sure she wouldn’t change her mind later.

“I’m sure.” She stood up from behind the desk, which Ryan assumed was her desk. “You’re loyal. Even if you’re writing isn’t as good as I’m sure it is, you can teach good writing. You can’t teach loyalty.” Linda gestured them over to Jon. “Now, let’s get you an assignment.”

-

Ryan looked down at the piece of paper assigning them to write a poem on the start of the school year. A simple enough assignment that Ryan, quite frankly, could write in their sleep.

“So you’re a writer?”

Ryan slung their bag over their shoulder and stood up straight. Next to them, Jon was bouncing on his toes. His camera bag was slung across his chest as he watched Ryan pack up their laptop.

“Yeah.” They nodded. “Well, I mean, hopefully.” Ryan shrugged, and turned to leave the room. Hopefully Spencer was making dinner, because Brendon near a pot of water was dangerous.

Jon followed them out. “You wanna work on something together?” He proposed, stepping slightly quicker than Ryan to hold the door open.

Ryan stopped, and Jon kept holding the door open. Their eyes narrowed. “Why?” Ryan asked. “You don’t know me.”

Jon shrugged. “I like poetry. And poetry could go well with photography.” He nodded his head towards the exit, and Ryan stepped outside as Jon followed. “We could have. Like. A photograph with a poem accompanying it.”

It didn’t seem like a bad idea, if Ryan was being honest. “How long you been the photographer on the paper?” They asked as Jon continued to walk with them.

“Since freshman year. I’m a junior now.” He nodded, as if mentally fact checking himself. “I’m a photography major. And a freelance photographer.”

Ryan pressed the walk button to cross the street and Jon waited too. “I thought you were a barista.” Ryan pointed out, and a lazy smile made Jon’s eyes crinkle.

“I’m a freelance photographer and a not-so-freelance barista.” He joked. The two crossed the street as the walk light flashed.

Jon’s happiness, Ryan discovered, was infectious. “Maybe we can work something out, Jon.” Ryan smiled, but then furrowed their brow when they came up outside their building. “Did you just follow me home?” They asked.

Jon looked at Ryan, then at the building. It was as if he’d just realized they’d stopped walking. “You live near my Starbucks.” He noted, nodding his head. “That’s a coincidence if the universe has ever given me one.” Jon reached into his camera bag and pulled out a pen. “Give me your hand.”

“Why?” Ryan asked, but handed him their left hand anyways. Jon took his palm in one hand and wrote on their wrist with the other.

He chewed on his lip. “Because when the universe gives you this many coincidences, you don’t ignore it.” He capped the pen and put it back in his back. “See you next Wednesday, Ryan.” Jon gave them a two-finger salute and a small smile before turning on his heel and heading off.

Ryan looked down at his wrist.

_“do u like cats? check y/n - 312-555-0768”_

-

Ryan walked up the stairs to their apartment with every intention of telling Spencer and Brendon about the weird photographer who either did or didn’t like cats. But when they arrived to the front door of their apartment, Blink-182 could be heard from the hallway.

“Spencer?” Ryan called into the apartment as they let themself in, setting their keys down and setting their bag on the floor. They heard a pot clang in the kitchen and followed the sound.

Spencer stirred a pot on one burner as he cut chicken up on the other. “We’re having chicken alfredo for dinner.” He told Ryan over the music. He lifted a piece of pasta from the pot and threw it at the wall. When it didn’t stick, he put a lid back on the pot.

Ryan looked at the limp noodle on the counter. “Brendon’s a vegetarian.” Ryan reminds him.

That seemed to be the wrong thing to say, as Spencer tossed the pasta ladle onto the counter rather harshly. “Well it’s a good thing he’s got a date tonight, isn’t it?” He grabs two spoons out of a cup on the counter and drums along to the song.

Ryan goes into the living room and turns down the CD player. In the kitchen, Spencer is still banging on the counter. “You okay?” They asked, crossing their arms.

“Fucking fantastic.” Spencer’s jaw is clenched, and Ryan suddenly wants to get Spencer away from the hot stove.

Ryan gently took Spencer’s hands in their own, and the drumming stopped. “Spence.” Ryan said, squeezing his hands.

Spencer dropped the silverware and everything else fell down too. Tears filled his eyes and his hands shook under Ryan’s. “It’s just.” He swallowed hard. “It’s dumb but I always wanted it to be me.” He looked everywhere but Ryan. “And I want him to be happy, but it still hurts.”

Ryan understood. They leaned up and kissed their best friends nose. “Being a vegetarian is dumb.” Ryan offered with a smile, and Spencer laughs.

“Yeah. Okay.” He took a deep breath and straightened up, wiping his eyes. “Let me make sure your non-vegetarian pasta doesn’t burn, and you can tell me about your day that had to be better than mine.”

-

Spencer swallowed a mouth full of food and looked at Ryan over the table. “You joined the newspaper?” He asked. “You didn’t tell me you were joining the newspaper.”

Ryan shrugged. “You’ve been busy, it’s not a big deal.” And it wasn’t. So they were a bit lonely, they’d get over it. “It’s run by this girl Linda. She’s a smart-ass; you two would get along.” Spencer dipped his fingers in his water and flicked it at them. Ryan wiped off their face, grinning, and noticed the ink still on their wrist. They set their arm onto their lap. “The barista that works at the Starbucks down the street is on the paper too. He does photography.” They took another bite, avoiding Spencer’s eyes.

“You never mentioned a barista.” Ryan doesn’t have to look at him to know he’s grinning. “Who’s the photographer barista, Ryan?”

“His name’s Jon.” The shrugged casually. It wasn’t like it was a big deal. So Ryan made a friend. Ryan was capable of making friends. It just didn’t happen that often.

Spencer’s grin could split his face in half. “Jon the photographer barista. Should I plan for a spring wedding or is he more of a fall guy?”

For some reason, Ryan didn’t find Spencer’s ribbing all that funny. “I’m allowed to have a friend, Spencer.” They grumbled, suddenly very fascinated with the leftover pieces of pasta on their plate. “He called me a dude, so he’s probably just trying to make up for, like, insulting me or whatever.” It made sense, when Ryan thought about it. They put their chin in their hand and poked at their plate with the other.

“Stop being down on yourself, asshole.” Spencer scolded. “You’re absolutely allowed to have friends, you’re right. I’m just.” He sighed, pushing his plate away. “Upset about. Y’know.” Before Ryan could ask him more about it, he was waving them off. “I’ll get over it. I don’t own him he can do what he wants.”

He stood up and took both their plates to the kitchen. “I’m going to lock myself in my room and hit my drums like a caveman util I pass out and hopefully avoid Brendon all together.” Spencer came back and ruffled Ryan’s hair. “Congrats on the paper.” He congratulated before leaving Ryan at the table.

They watched him walk away and couldn’t help but wonder if maybe letting Brendon and Spencer room together was a bad idea.

-

Ryan stared at the open document on their computer as they tried to bang out their first assignment. Linda wanted them to try writing a poem about adjusting to Chicago, stating a lot of incoming students could relate. But Ryan didn’t find inspiration coming easily. Luckily, as the September issue of the paper would be coming out in a few days, Ryan’s piece wasn’t due for a month.

Giving up on the assignment for the night, they pushed open the window next to their desk before pulling a pack of cigarettes from their drawer. As they pulled out the pack, their eye was caught by the corner of laminated paper. Pulling open their drawer all they way, their stomach clenched.

Ryan took the stack of post cards from their drawer and set them on their desk. They tapped their pack against the wood and looked at the cards. Making a decision, they pulled out their lighter and flipped over the post card from Utah. Ryan lit the cigarette and grabbed a pen. Taking a long drag, they started writing.

_“Dad,_

_I moved to Chicago with Spencer and Brendon. We packed up mom’s station wagon and drove across the country. It got us here safe._

_Spencer is still a boy, Brendon’s not a Mormon anymore, and I’m still not the son you wanted._

_Don’t forget to drink water._

_-Ryan”_

Ryan signed their dad’s address to the the card and ashed into a mug on their desk. They shoved the stack of cards, one less blank than before, back into their desk and made a mental note to buy stamps. Holding the cigarette between their lips, they took a deep inhale as they leaned back in their chair, exhaling from the corner of their mouth.

There was still pen on their arm. Ryan started at the scrawl for a moment before grabbing their phone off the table. Typing in the number, Ryan sent a message.

_“I like all animals. Cats are awesome.”_

They hit send before they could change their mind, and received a reply almost immediately. It was a photo of a calico cat on top of, what Ryan assumed was, Jon’s lap.

_“this is dylan he likes catnip and being carried like a baby”_

Ryan huffed a laugh. Without thinking twice about it, they saved the photo to their phone and set it as Jon’s contact photo. Maybe Jon really was just a nice guy, and Ryan wasn’t about to shut down someone who actually wanted to be their friend.

From outside their bedroom door, they could hear Brendon try to quietly enter the apartment only to drop his keys on the floor.

Leaning back in their chair, Ryan took another drag. As smoke filled their lungs, their eyes slipped closed.


	5. Chapter 5

The city had a quiet hum in the morning that Ryan had grown to rely on. Even on the weekends, Ryan found themself waking up early. Sitting on the window bench with a cup of coffee, they looked out at the city. September was coming to an end, and all signs of summer were gone. The chill of the outside air coated the windows and spread goosebumps along their skin. The bench vibrated, and Ryan looked down at their phone. Across the screen, a text message popped up.

_“if ur awake come ovr 2 strbx nd ill give u a muffin”_

Ryan looked at the clock on their phone; seven-oh-six am. They took a moment to think it over, watching the steam come out of their mug. They picked up their phone and walked into the kitchen to pour out their coffee.

_“I’ll be over in ten.”_

-

Pushing open the front door of the coffee shop, Ryan noticed how busy it was for seven-thirty on a Saturday morning. They made their way over to a free table and took a seat. Ryan couldn’t see Jon amongst all the people, so they pulled out their laptop and a pair of headphones. It had been a while since they’d written for a reason other than assignments and Ryan found themself slipping comfortably into the lull of music in their ears and keys under their fingers.

They had no idea how much time passed as they wrote, but they were stopped mid-word as a chocolate chip muffin was placed in the middle of their keyboard. Ryan jumped slightly and tugged out their headphones. Jon giggled to himself as he took the seat across from Ryan. They saved their document and closed their laptop.

“Sorry you were waiting so long.” Jon apologized. “I saw you come in, but my break got pushed back. I assumed you had a sweet tooth, so I got you chocolate chip.” He took off his visor and set it down on the table before pulling his apron over his head.

Ryan blinked. He was far too chipper for, Ryan glanced at their phone, eight am. “I thought you were kidding about the muffin.” They admitted, which only made Jon’s smile widen.

“So I didn’t have to bribe you with food to hang out with me?” He asked. “Good to know, that’ll save me money in the future.”

“Is that why you told me to come over? To hang out?” Ryan asked, pulling a piece of the muffin off and shoving it in their mouth. They chewed and looked at Jon, raising an eyebrow.

Jon’s smile didn’t falter. “Yeah. I knew you lived close, and I want us to be friends.” He shrugged honestly. “And you agreed, so that’s on you.” He joked, and Ryan found themself smiling too.

“Fair enough.” Ryan admitted. If they were being honest with themself, it had been too long since Ryan had even attempted to make a friend. Spencer had been around as long as Ryan could remember, Brendon weaseled his way into Ryan’s life before they’d even noticed, and their year at UNLV had been a rough one; they’d never even tried to make any friends.

Jon didn’t seem to have any problem with Ryan’s silence. “Are you liking Chicago so far? Probably a lot different than Vegas.” He asked. An easy enough question.

Ryan nodded. “I like it a lot more than Vegas.” They told him honestly. “But I haven’t really seen any of it besides the walk to and from school.” They admitted.

That seemed to be the right thing to say. Jon immediately perked up. “You should let me show you around.” He suggested, and his enthusiasm was infectious. “We can go see all the tourist shit and it’ll be tacky and fantastic.”

Ryan felt themself getting excited. “Okay.” They agreed, and Jon grinned again. “When do you want to hang out?” They asked.

“You free today?” He asked. “My shift ends in four hours. Wanna come back then and we can go out?” Jon suggests. Ryan’s eyebrows raise.

“Today?” Jon nodded. “Like, four hours from right now, today?” Jon nodded again. Internally, Ryan panicked. Outwardly, they said: “Okay.”

“Awesome.” He nodded, but didn’t focus on it for long before switching topics. “So, what kind of music do you listen to?”

-

Ryan let themself back into the apartment a half hour later with four hours to collect themself to be alone with Jon for the rest of the day. They liked Jon. He had a cat named after Bob Dylan, liked taking photos of nature, and played multiple instruments. Jon was someone Ryan wanted to be friends with.Which meant Ryan couldn’t fuck it up.

“Where were you?”

Ryan almost dropped their bag in shock. Clutching their heart, they turned to see Brendon sitting at the kitchen table with a bowl of cereal. He was in a pair of what Ryan was sure were Spencer’s pajama pants. Ryan was also sure that the hickey on his neck did not, however, belong to Spencer.

Ryan dropped their bag on the kitchen table. “Said the guy I haven’t seen for more than five minutes since we got here.” They teased; they deflected. They kissed the top of Brendon’s head. “Stop pretending to eat and come spoon me.” Ryan demanded, pulling Brendon out of his chair and down the hall. Ryan noticed music coming from inside Spencer and Brendon’s room as they entered Ryan’s.

Brendon jumped onto the bed and wiggled under the covers as Ryan kicked off their shoes and shimmied out of their jeans. “Your bed smells like nicotine.” Brendon remarked, pressing his nose into the sheets.

Ryan climbed into bed in front of Brendon. “You smell like sex.” Ryan countered, wiggling back into Brendon’s chest.

Brendon huffed into their hair. “Don’t slut-shame me.” He wrapped their arm around Ryan’s waist and pulled them in tight. “Where were you this morning?” He asked again.

“I made a friend. I think.” Ryan told him. “His name’s Jon. We’re on the school newspaper together and he works at the Starbucks down the street. I went and hung out while he was on his break.” They hesitated before continuing. “He’s going to show me around Chicago after his shift.”

Brendon pushed Ryan over to lie on top of Ryan. “Is it a date?” He inquired. He wiggled up Ryan’s torso to rest their heads together. “Is he cute?”

Ryan thought about it. Jon had soft eyes and a kind smile. He liked almost all music and definitely all animals. He had the kind of laid-back attitude Ryan wishes they could have. “I guess?” Ryan offered. “I haven’t given it any thought, honestly. I was too focused on the actually-getting-a-friend thing than a potential is-my-friend-hot thing.”

Brendon bent down and gave Ryan a soft kiss. “Anyone would be lucky to be your friend, Ryan Ross.” Brendon whispered. “Don’t let anyone make you think otherwise. Not even yourself.”

Ryan wanted to roll their eyes, they really did. But the thing about Brendon was that he was infectious. If he was happy, everyone was happy. If he was sad, everyone was sad. If he believed in Ryan, Ryan believed in Ryan.

“I wanted to go sight-seeing, but I don’t think Spencer wants to hang out with me anymore.” Brendon tucked his head under Ryan’s chin, and their hand automatically came up to the middle of Brendon’s back.

Ryan wanted to end this right now. They wanted to tell Brendon that Spencer was in love with him. They wanted Brendon to jump out of bed and run to Spencer. They wanted them to kiss and make up. They wanted Brendon to stop being secretive and they wanted Spencer to stop being moody.

But it wasn’t their secret to tell.

“Maybe you two should just talk.” Ryan could only suggest, to which Brendon sighed.

“He doesn’t talk to me anymore.” He whispered, tracing his fingers up and down Ryan’s side. “I don’t know. I’m not going to push it by starting an argument. You know Spencer. When his mind is set that’s kind of it.”

A fact Ryan knew very well. They rolled them over so they were now the one spooning Brendon. “I don’t have to meet Jon until noon, let’s go back to sleep.” They suggested, and Brendon sunk back into Ryan.

“That sounds fantastic, let’s do that.” He sighed. They felt his muscles relax, and Ryan couldn’t help but let their eyes slip closed.

Through the wall, Ryan could make out the drumming of Spencer’s favorite Radiohead song.

-

Ryan woke up before Brendon. In his sleep, where he’s finally sitting still, the bags under his eyes were more prominent than when Ryan was just catching glances between classes. Carefully, as to not wake him, they got out of bed. Finding their discarded pants, they pulled them back on before checking the time. Eleven am.

Spencer was sitting on the couch with his computer open on his lap. Ryan took his laptop and set it on the coffee table before lying across the couch with their head in Spencer’s lap. “I had breakfast with Jon today and we’re going to go sight-seeing in an hour.

“What a caring boyfriend.” Spencer teased. Ryan reached up and pulled his hair; Spencer laughed softly. “I’m sorry. I’m happy you’re making friends.” Ryan could tell he meant it.

They turned their head and kissed Spencer’s hand. “I’ve got an hour. How’ve you been?” They asked. Ryan hadn’t realized, but Spencer and Brendon had started slipping through the cracks. If there were two people that Ryan needed to make sure never slipped away, it was Spencer and Brendon.

Spencer groaned. “So there’s this bitch in my accounting class…”

-

Jon was waiting on the front steps of Ryan’s building when they came outside. His polo was traded for a thick Chicago Cubs hoodie, but Ryan noted he still had flip-flops on. “Are you sure you’re not stalking me?” Ryan looked down at him.

He immediately stood up, his camera bag swinging at his side. “Hey!” He greeted. “And no, not stalking. I didn’t want you to have to come back when you’d already been there.” Jon informed with a shrug of his shoulders.

Ryan zipped up their (Spencer’s) hoodie. “How considerate.” They teased, stepping down the steps to the sidewalk. “Lead the way, tour guide.”

His grin widened. “Okay! So were going to do all the tacky shit and I’m totally going to buy you Giordano’s. Now, it’s not the best pizza in Chicago, but it’s the tourist pizza so we’re getting it.” Jon informed, shoving his hands in his pockets as they walked.

“What’s Giordano’s?” Ryan asked, looking at Jon as they walked. Jon was slightly taller and had curls that framed his face. Subconsciously, Ryan played with the waves that reached down to their shoulders.

Jon’s eyes widened and he looked at Ryan. “Oh, we are so starting with the pizza.”

-

“Okay, I don’t care if it’s tourist pizza, I loved it.” Ryan moaned as the two walked around the Navy Pier. Jon’s camera shuttered beside them as Ryan looked out at Lake Michigan. They knew it wasn’t actually an ocean, but it felt like it. All that could be seen along the horizon was blue. “Definitely a one-up over Nevada.” Ryan mused aloud.

“Shitty pizza in Vegas?” Jon asked. He lowered his camera, looking at Ryan. “What, you too good for Pizza Hut?”

They laughed, and there was Jon’s smile. “No, I meant the water. I always liked the ocean- lake, I guess. But I’ve never actually…seen the water.”

Ryan had always dreamed of places they’d never been. Places with more than just sand and succulents. Mountains and rivers and lakes and valleys. Jack Kerouac and Allen Ginsberg.

“We can go swimming when it’s warmer.” Jon offered. “I mean, we could always go swimming now but I’m really not high enough or drunk enough to go swimming in October.” He laughed, and Ryan laughed with him.

“I probably would die. My arms are like noodles.” They wiggled their limbs, which made Jon giggle. Ryan’s stomach clenched and the sound, and they ignored it.

Jon pulled gently at Ryan’s sleeve. “Come on, noodle arms. The fun has yet to begin!” He exclaimed as he lead Ryan inside. “Now, we’re not going to the shops because it’s all junk you don’t need.” Jon educated as they walked through the building. “If you want a Chicago sweater I’m sure one of mine from elementary school would fit.” He teased.

“Ha-ha.” They rolled their eyes. “You from here?” Ryan asked as the two stepped onto the escalator.

Jon leaned against the railing. “Born and raised.” He said, puffing his chest out slightly. ‘“I couldn’t see myself anywhere else.” Jon stepped off the top. “Besides, why would I want to when there’s gems like this?” Jon asked, holding open the door in front of them.

Ryan’s jaw dropped at the sight in front of them.

“They’re called the Crystal Gardens.” Jon informed as Ryan’s eyes scanned over the plants around them. “I figured if you ever were missing those weird-ass palm trees of Las Vegas, you could come here!” He jogged in front of Ryan and hopped up on top of a bench. He spread his arms wide. “Great, right?!”

It was great. “I…” They sighed. “Yeah. It’s great.”

Ryan walked around the center as Jon pulled out his camera. They had tried their best not to think about it, but they did kind of miss Nevada. The bright sun, the dry air, the quiet comfort of their two best friends.

As they looked at each and every plant, Jon followed behind them quietly. Ryan was thankful for the silence. It was hard to find quiet in the city, especially with two music majors. It was nice.

When Ryan had walked around the entire building, they turned to Jon. “I like tourist traps.” They smiled.

Jon’s face mirrored their own. “Then we’ve got one more stop.” He pushed open the back exit to the garden and it’s then Ryan noticed the big fixture outside.

“A ferris wheel.” They looked back at Jon. He lowered his camera, down to hang around his neck and nodded.

“You’re not afraid of heights, are you?” It was a rhetorical question, as Jon went to the booth to buy tickets before Ryan could even reply. Ryan followed him to the booth.

“Hey, let me get the tickets you bought lunch-“ Jon wouldn’t let Ryan argue.

“Hush.” He silenced them, waving his hand in dismissal. “You can make it up to me some other time if you feel like you have to,” Jon thanked the woman at the booth and turned to Ryan. He handed them their ticket. “But I don’t feel like you have to.”

Ryan looked down at the ticket, and then at their newfound friend. “Well it’s a good thing I’m not afraid of heights then.” They remarked, which, based on Jon’s face, was the right answer.

There wasn’t a line for the wheel. It was October, and tourism for the Navy Pier usually focused in the summer. An attendant let them into a basket, and didn’t wait long before starting the ride as there as no one else in line. “This is the best view in the city.” Jon hummed, lifting his camera to take shots of the city.

Jon was right. Everything looked smaller, less intense. But it was all still the same city Ryan had grown to love in such a short amount of time.

“It’s called the golden hour.” Jon lowered his camera to his lap and looked back at Ryan. “It’s a photography term. It’s this moment before sunset where sunlight is redder and softer than any other point in the day.” He informs. “Good for photos.”

“It’s pretty.” They hummed, looking out on the horizon once more before looking back at Jon. “Thank you. For this.” Ryan genuinely couldn’t remember the last time they’d had this much fun. “My roommates are kind of my only friends, and they’ve been fighting a lot, so this really is. Nice.” It was an embarrassing thing to admit, but Ryan didn’t know how else to express their gratitude. Maybe they could write a poem later.

Jon’s eyes softened, and the glow of the sky cut across his cheek. “Well now you’ve got three friends.” He stated simply.

The ferris wheel descended back down to the ground, and Ryan felt happy.


	6. Chapter 6

Jon quickly became part of Ryan’s daily schedule. Every morning they got up early and got ready for the day and would meet Jon before classes. Coffee in the newsroom before class had started to become their daily thing. At night Ryan would do homework at Starbucks while Jon worked, as it was a much calmer environment than their apartment had become. Often, they’d hang out long after Jon’s shifts had ended. Sometimes Ryan felt bad taking up so much of Jon’s time, but Jon never seemed to mind.

Not to mention, things between their roommates weren’t getting better at all. Brendon still came home late with hickies on his neck, and Spencer still had a sarcastic remark for every little thing he could nitpick. The only way things would get better was if they would talk, but they weren’t doing much of that those days. They had recently started a new daily routine of avoiding each other entirely, and Ryan didn’t know what they could even do.

Ryan had once again escaped to Jon’s work; camping out at a table in the back and working on a short story about dead leaves.

They let themself get sucked into writing until the chair across from them dragged on the floor. “It’s October, stop frowning and enjoy some pumpkin spice.” Ryan looked up as Jon sat down at a table. He was no longer in his uniform, but he did have a latte in his hand. Ryan made grab hands at it, and Jon slid it across the table.

They closed their laptop. “Jon Walker you’re a saint.” They hummed as they slurped down the drink. It hadn’t taken Jon long to find out about Ryan’s caffeine addiction or their sweet tooth. Jon didn’t do much to stop it either.

“Long day?” Jon asked, folding his arms on the table.

Ryan set the drink down. “Shouldn’t I be asking you that?” They countered.

Jon shrugged. “Work is work.” He waved them off. “My roommate is back in town and we’re going to smoke and play guitar, so everything else is whatever.”

Ryan had learned all about Jon’s roommate over the last month. Tom was a photographer like Jon, but it was a full-time job for him. He often needed to travel for shoots, which caused him to be gone sometimes for weeks at a time. They had been best friends since high school, and Jon missed him a lot when he was gone.

They wanted to ask if they were a couple, but they weren’t sure they wanted to hear the answer. Not that it would matter. Ryan wasn’t into Jon like their roommates thought.

“That’s awesome.” And Ryan meant it. Jon was their friend, and they wanted Jon happy. They picked up their drink again.

Jon watched Ryan for a moment. Ryan was going to ask what was up but before they could, Jon shot up in his chair.

“You should come over!” Jon declared.

Ryan choked on their drink. “Like, to your place?” They asked, and Jon nodded. “Like, now?” Jon nodded even more vigorously. “Like this?” They asked, looking down at their outfit.

That day had been a femme day for Ryan. Layered scarves twisted around their neck on top of a tan corduroy dress and green tights. They looked cute. They knew they looked cute.

Jon’s brow furrowed. He looked down at Ryan’s outfit, and then back up at their face. “Why not like that?” He asked, confused. “Is that, like, not a meeting-your-friends-friend outfit?”

Ryan liked Jon, but damn did Ryan hate cis people.

“God, Jon. I mean is your roommate okay with trans people.” They hissed, embarrassed. Ryan suddenly felt ashamed. Of what, they didn’t know. Maybe of the fact that it was something they had to ask about at all. They looked down at the table, feeling their face heat up in both anger and embarrassment, but they could still feel Jon’s eyes on them.

After having Ryan spell it out, Jon understood. “Oh. Yeah! God, yeah. I love Tom, he’s like my brother, but I wouldn’t be friends with a transphobe.” Jon quickly assured them. “Besides, he and Linda get along great.”

Ryan blinked. “Jon.” They said slowly, making sure they had his attention. “You can’t just- you can’t tell people other people are trans.” They corrected, low enough so no one else heard. Ryan wondered then if Jon had told anyone they were trans. Not that they had a problem with people knowing, they’d just rather they had control over who knew. Also, Ryan preferred no one questioned anything about them at all. Linda may have felt the same, but Ryan couldn't know for sure unless it came from her mouth. “It's not your place to tell anyone she’s trans. It's hers.”

Jon smacked his forehead. “Sorry, sorry. That makes sense. That totally makes sense. I’ll talk to her about it later. Linda does a lot of work with dummies like me. She has the patience of a saint, that woman.”

Ryan looked down at their drink; their eyes traced the circle of the cup. “Have you told anyone about me? Even, like, accidentally?” They knew their situation was different. When you were nonbinary and used pronouns like they and them, it was pretty easy to pick up on the whole trans thing. That didn't mean Ryan wanted strangers knowing what was in their pants.

“No no no.” Jon rushed out, fingers reaching out and wrapping around their wrist. “I mean, when I talk about you I use the right pronouns, I always do, but other than that, no. Never.”

Ryan felt a little better. “I don’t know, I still don’t want to interfere with your plans…” Their hand came free of Jon’s hold and twirled their hair around their finger nervously.

Jon still wasn’t having it. “I’m not going to make you come, obviously. But Tom does want to meet, and I quote, “the idiot who decided to let Jon Walker know their address”.” He rolled his eyes. “And honestly, I think he thinks I’m making you up.”

At that, Ryan laughed. “Okay, I’ll come over. But only to meet Dylan.” And to make sure you haven’t told your friend awful things about me, Ryan thought. Suddenly, they were reminded of the French film Le Dîne de Cons.

“Awesome!” Jon exclaimed, standing up from the table. Ryan followed in his action and followed Jon out the door. “My apartment actually a couple miles away, so we’ll have to take the train. I got the job when I had a lot of classes over on this side of town, so it made sense.”

“We can take my car.” They offered. Ryan hadn’t had the chance to drive since they’d arrived in the city and honestly, they missed The Wagon.

Jon raised his eyebrow in intrigue. “Lead the way.”

The two walked down to Ryan’s building as Ryan fished their keys from their bag. The Wagon was exactly where they’d left it a month ago as Ryan unlocked the door. They reached across the bench and unlocked Jon’s door.

Ryan started the engine and rubbed their fingers together. “Sorry, she’s from Nevada, so repairing the heat wasn’t a priority of mine.” Fall had definitely come to stay in Chicago, and Ryan definitely wasn’t prepared to be outside more than the walk from their home to the coffee shop.

“I’m a midwest boy, I don’t mind the cold.” He waved them off, but Jon seemed to notice it did affect Ryan. He noticed Ryan shiver and smacked himself on the forehead. “You’re cold- of course you’re cold you’re from Nevada and you’re wearing tights-“

Ryan grumbled. “I look cute.”

“-your noodle body isn’t made for this weather.” And before Ryan could wave him off, Jon was unzipping his hoodie.

Ryan blushed. Hard. “I’m fine you really don’t-“

But he wasn’t having it. “I was raised to be a gentleman, Ryan Ross.” He teased, handing them his hoodie. They looked at Jon’s eyes; happy and encouraging. He always seemed to be nothing but encouraging.

“Yeah, okay, please give me that right now.” Ryan shivered as they took their friend’s hoodie and pulled it on. It was warm from being worn and, Ryan noticed, smelled faintly of weed and Old Spice. Ryan made a mental note to spend time with Brendon as they zipped it up all the way. “Thank you.”

Jon pulled the hood over Ryan’s head and ruffled it. “Anytime, noodle arms.” He teased as Ryan shifted into gear and pulled out of the spot. It was rush hour on a Friday night, so the should-be short ride would take a while. “Did you say you repaired this car yourself?” He asked, impressed.

“Yeah.” Ryan rubbed the dashboard. “Me and Spencer spent months fixing her up.” It was a fond memory. Warm summer nights with flash lights, popsicles, and car manuals.

Jon sunk back into the seat and Ryan turned on the cassette player. David Bowie filled the car, and the two sand along as they drove down the road.

-

Ryan was nervous as they trailed behind Jon up the stairs. They knew they had no reason to be. Jon was a good friend, he wouldn’t put Ryan in an awkward situation intentionally. But even with that assurance, they couldn’t help but wonder. What if Tom didn’t like them? What if Jon was different around other people? What if Dylan didn’t like them?

Jon unlocked the front door and instantly a cat wove it’s way between their ankles. “I love you.” Ryan said immediately, crouching down in the doorway to pick up Dylan. “What a lovely boy.” They cooed, stepping out of the doorway.

“Thank you, I try my best.”

Ryan’s head turned at the not-Jon voice to see a guy sitting on the couch. He had tired eyes that rivaled Jon’s and dirty-blonde hair that looked purposely messy. A silver hoop went through his left nostril, and it caught the light of the room at certain angles. He gave Ryan a crooked smile, and they subconsciously held the cat tighter.

“Tommy, Ryan. Ryan, Tommy.” Jon kicked off his shoes and ducked his head down to kiss the top of Dylan’s head before heading into the kitchen. “You want a drink?” He called to Ryan, who was still standing in the entryway.

“I’m okay.” They called back. They didn’t want to have to put the cat down.

Tom stood up from the couch and walked over to Ryan. “To be honest, I thought you weren’t real.” He laughed.

Ryan looked at him. “You don’t have pants on.” They blurted out. Immediately they felt their face heat up.

A glass smashed in the kitchen and Tom laughed. “Don’t step in glass, Jonny!” He called into the kitchen. “Sorry, Walker gave me zero heads up that he was bringing you.” Tom informed.

Ryan’s stomach sank, and they put the cat down on the carpet. “Oh! Right, I can go if you two wanted to catch up. I have homework-“

“No, no.” Tom waved them off. “Stay, we’re just going to play and get high.” He walked back over to the couch, and Ryan unzipped their boots and left them next to the door before sitting on the matching loveseat. “Besides, I want to hear all about Jon not-made-up friend.”

Jon came back into the room with two uncapped beers in one hand and a cat in the other. “Told you I’m a people person.” He sing-songed as he handed Tom one of the bottles. Ryan expected him to sit next to Tom, but he took the set next to them easily. Dylan hopped back up in his lap only to climb into Ryan’s. Out of the corner of their eye they caught Jon smile down at his pet.

Tom took a pull of his drink before swapping it out for a pack of cigarettes on the coffee table. “You drink?” He asked, pulling out a stick and lighting it.

Ryan’s body immediately locked up. Dylan, having felt Ryan’s tension, headbutted their chin. “No.” They said shortly before turning to Jon. “I can smoke in here?” They asked, and their voice broke slightly.

Jon looked them in the eyes, and his eyebrow twitched slightly before he nodded. Ryan reached into their bag on the floor and pulled out their pack and lighter. Jon took Dylan from their lap as they lit their cigarette and took a long, deep drag.

“Thank fuck, another smoker.” Tom exhaled, blowing smoke towards the cracked living room window. “Jon sticks to weed, but he does smoke it like a nicotine addict.” He teased. Jon flipped him off before setting his drink down on the coffee table. Ryan’s brain was fixating hard on the fact that they were on the other side of town in an apartment with two dudes they’ve collectively known one month.

“Stop being mean, Tom.” Jon pulled his feet up onto the couch and tucked his legs underneath him. “How was your trip?” He asked, and when Tom smiled it was genuine.

Tom picked up what Ryan presumed was his laptop and passed it across Ryan to Jon. Jon shifted to lean into Ryan’s side, setting the laptop on his lap so they could see. They were wedding photos, they noted. Orange and gold trees decorated every photo, painting beautiful scenes. “These are amazing.” Ryan complimented, ashing into Tom’s tray. “Where were you?”

“Seattle.” He blew smoke out his nose. “This couple hired me to do their wedding photos, and if someone hires you to take some photos in a fucking Japanese garden in Seattle? Unmissable opportunity.” After looking down at the images, Ryan had to agree. Seattle looked beautiful.

Jon closed the laptop and placed it back on the table. “Those are great, man.” He mused. “I’m gonna go grab my stuff.”He told them both before walking down the hall, presumably to his room. Ryan took the last drag of their cigarette and snubbed the butt out.

Tom got up and grabbed one of the two guitars hanging off the wall above the couch. “Jon says you play?” He asked, setting the instrument in his lap.

“I do.” But not in a while, they didn’t mention. They hadn’t realized it until then, but Ryan hadn’t made any time for music since moving. “I kinda sorta have a band, but we don’t play together much anymore. The rest of the band, my roommates, are music majors.” They shrugged. “I went into writing.”

Tom quirked an eyebrow in intrigue. “Lyricist?” He seemed genuinely curious.

“Yeah.” Ryan nodded. The songs were like a diary, honestly. Deeply personal stories or family and love and loss and addiction. Ryan never wanted to play them in front of other people, but writing them, getting it out of their head, it helped.

Tom held up the guitar with a quirked eyebrow. “You don’t have to sing, of course. But you want to play?” And honestly, Ryan did.

They took the guitar from Tom and held it in their lap. Ryan noticed that the callouses on their fingers weren’t as thick as they used to be. The first song that came to mind was untitled, but Ryan still remembered the words.

Mentally, they sang along as their fingers played the melody. It was about a girlfriend who cheated on Ryan after they came out. “I’m not some queer, and I don’t want to be fucked by one.” They’d been sad for so long afterwards, but then they’d decided she could go fuck herself. Ryan was a good fuck, and she’d realize that straight dick couldn’t ever compare.

It was a little arrogant, sure, but she could choke.

Ryan didn’t notice Jon come back into the room until the song trailed off. “You’re so talented.” He beamed, and Ryan turned to see him standing in the opening off the hallway. In one hand he had a pipe and a little bag, in the other he had a joint between his fingers.

“Thanks.” Ryan nodded, but immediately handed Tom back the guitar.

“Of course you started by yourself.” Tom rolled his eyes, to which Jon stuck his tongue out, and looked back at Ryan. “Really though, you have an open invitation to play here anytime. Jonny doesn’t get to monopolize you anymore, you’re totally going to be my friend too.”

“Get your own friend, Tommy.” Jon countered, offering Ryan the joint. It had been a while since they smoked up, the last time being after Brendon and Spencer got into a particularly rough shouting match. They took it from his fingers thankfully.

“I’ll just smoke this, you two have fun.” Ryan told Jon as their friend leaned over their coffee table with a grinder. They took a hit, letting the smoke sit in their lungs until they needed air before they exhaled.

“You smoke a lot?” Tom asked conversationally, strumming the guitar in his lap.

Ryan took another hit. “No.” They said, exhaling out their nose. “One of my roommates, Spencer, can’t get high. We always feel bad doing it around him when he can’t.” Tom nodded, as if in understanding. Ryan knew he didn’t explain.

“So considerate.” Jon hummed, packing the bowl. He handed the pipe to Tom before leaning back into the couch. “Hi.” His head lolled over to look at Ryan. A happy smile spread across his face, and Ryan noted that it was a good look for him. “My cat loves you.”

Ryan looked down at where Dylan was laying on their toes and smiled. They started to feel their skin tingle, and decided that was enough. Licking their thumb and index finger, they pinched it off and placed it on the table. Jon may be one of Ryan’s closest friends, but Ryan was smart enough not to get stoned in a place they didn’t know.

“I love him.” Ryan cooed, picking Dylan up off the floor and setting him in their lap. “You love me too, don’t you.” He purred, and Ryan’s heart melted.

“He’s a good judge of character.” Jon pointed out, reaching over and petting his head.

Tom exhaled towards the window and sighed. “God it’s been too long.” He moaned. Sitting forward on his knees, he passed the pipe to Jon. “So, Ryan. What’re your intentions with my son?”

Ryan stroked Dylan’s head. “Well, he’s very cute and I’d like to take him home with me.”

Jon inhaled incorrectly and Tom’s laugh filled the room. “I mean Jon.” He got out between chuckles, wiping tears from his eyes,

They felt their face get hot at their mistake. “Oh. Well, I mean, I’m just biding my time until he gets sick of me.” The best way to tell the truth, Ryan had learned, was to pretend you were joking.

Ryan didn’t know it was possible to exhale while frowning, but Jon was doing a great job of it. “Never, Ry.” He assured. Jon placed the pipe on the table and leaned in closer to Ryan. “You’re funny, and talented, and I’m happy to have you as a friend.” He nodded in agreement with his own statement.

They wanted to laugh, but it was too sweet. “You’re an affectionate stoner, aren’t you?”

“He is.” Tom said immediately. “Once when we were in high school, Walker got high and watched Air Bud and cried.”

“The pudding cups, Tommy.” His eyes looked bigger when he pouted. “Buddy just wanted his pudding cups.”

-

The bowl was empty as Tom stretched out on the couch. He and Ryan watched their friend as he serenaded his cat. Dylan had jumped off of Ryan’s lap a half hour ago, and Jon had faithfully followed him to the floor. For some reason, Jon decided Dylan needed to know he was Jon’s wonderwall.

Ryan strummed the guitar absentmindedly, playing the beginning of a song they’d never finished a year ago. Something upbeat and depressing. The perfect kind of song.

“You’re good for him. “

Ryan looked over at Tom, but he wasn’t looking at them. They followed his line of sight to Jon, who was pressing little kisses to Dylan’s back. “Howso?”

Tom rolled onto his side and propped himself up on his elbow. “He’s a nice guy. He reads, like, books on mindfulness. For fun.” Extra emphasis on fun.

“You not a fan of self improvement?” Ryan countered, and Tom laughed. Internally, Ryan was pleased. They were definitely passing the best friend approval test. “He’s more of a bad influence on me, really.” They pointed out. “Like, I have no idea how I’m getting home.” Ryan wasn’t about to get behind the wheel even slightly high.

Tom waved it off the minute the statement was out of Ryan’s lips. “You can sleep in Jonny’s room. He and I can share a big boy bed, he promised a long time ago he wouldn’t try and touch my dick.”

Ryan snorted. “I don’t understand teenage boys.” They sighed. Tom raised his arms in agreed confusion.

“JWalk is a special one.” He mused. Ryan watched as he spent a solid minute trying to sit up on the couch to grab his drink. “Jonny!” He exclaimed. “Stop serenading your puss and pay attention to your guest.”

Jon seemed to remember then that Ryan was in his home. He carefully got to his feet, guitar in hand, and flopped back down next to Ryan. “Ryan, you’re in my apartment.” He hummed.

Ryan laughed, and Jon beamed. “I am.” Their fingers strummed a song from one of Brendon’s sing-a-long movies. “Stranded at Jon’s apartment. He’s high like a fool.” Tom burst into giggles. “What will my roommates say, when I get home?” Ryan laughed at their own joke.

“I like you.” Tom pointed at Ryan and bobbed his head, moreso to himself. He stood up from the couch, and his body wobbled before he caught his footing. Ryan had to hold themself back from steading him; force of habit. “I’m going to bed.” He informed them, walking behind Jon to pat his head. “Ryan has dibs on your bedroom, so come to bed with me when you’re done.” Jon reached up and patted Tom’s hand. He offered a wave to Ryan. “It was very nice to meet you, Ryan.” He bid them goodnight before shuffling down the hall.

The room was quiet apart from the sounds of the city, and the cat purring on the floor. It was comforting. Whenever Ryan was home it was drumming and guitar-playing and fighting. Maybe Ryan should get a cat. Or maybe they should take Tom up on his offer of being Ryan’s fourth friend.

Ryan looked over at Jon. He was clearly still a bit high as he pulled at a string on the hem of his shirt. Chewed nails moved from the fabric to rub up and down his arm. Ryan must have still been a bit high too, or at least, that’s how they justified their action as they turned to kick their feet up over the arm of the couch and settle their head in Jon’s lap. “Play with my hair.” They hummed.

Jon didn’t even ask questions, just thread his fingers into Ryan’s hair. It felt so nice to just have someone to be affectionate with again and in that moment, Ryan’s thoughts wandered to Spencer. Was he doing well in school? Was he doing well with Brendon? Was he doing well with himself? They sighed.

“You okay?” He asked. Ryan looked up at him to see Jon looking down at them. Jon, Ryan learned, was someone who spoke with his eyes. When he was happy, his eyes shown. When he was angry, the corners of his eyes became tight.

Ryan pressed their face into Jon’s stomach. “I just haven’t gotten high in a while.” They said into Jon’s shirt. It technically wasn’t a lie, even though the high had worn off during Tom’s performance of Hungry like the Wolf. Jon’s fingers scratched at their scalp, and Ryan hummed.

“I’m sorry I kind of stranded you here.” Jon apologized, drawing circles behind Ryan’s ear. “I wanted you to meet Tommy, I didn’t think about you not being able to get home.”

Ryan blew a raspberry against his shirt. “It’s okay, I like him.” They flipped onto their back and smiled up at him. “I’m going to make him my friend instead of you.” Ryan yawned, arching their back off the couch. It had been so long since they’d felt this relaxed, let their guard down, that exhaustion was catching up with them.

“Tired?” He punctuated his question by poking Ryan’s nose.

They were tired, but it had been so long since Ryan felt so relaxed that they didn’t want it to end. “No, no. I’m just…resting my eyes.” Ryan excused, letting their eyes fall closed before pressing their head into Jon’s hand. “How’d you get Dylan?”

Jon’s hand carded through their hair and hummed happily. “It’s a funny story actually!” And one he happily told.

As Ryan listened to him talk about his cat, they dozed off, feeling more at ease than they had in a very long time.


	7. Chapter 7

Ryan woke up to their phone ringing.

They groaned, reaching for their bedside table to silence it, but their hand grabbed air. Squinting their eyes open, they realized that they weren’t in their bedroom, but in Jon’s living room. The couched moved under Ryan, and they realized they weren’t alone either.

Jon groaned, stretching his arms above his head. “Phone, Ryan.” He grumbled, working out the muscles that had gone stiff from sleeping upright. Ryan immediately sat up, embarrassed.

“Sorry, sorry.” They rushed out, fishing through their bag on the floor to pull out their phone. Finally finding it, they hit the accept button. “Hello?”

_“Where the fuck are you?”_

Ryan winced as Spencer yelled into their ear. Jon got up from the couch and went into the kitchen. “I’m at Jon’s.” They told him, rubbing the heel of their hand into their eyes.

_“Great, at least Brendon fucking comes home after a hookup.”_

Brendon could be heard stating his offence in the background. “I didn’t hook up with him.” Ryan hissed. “We played music and I tried to steal his cat.” Jon came back in the room with two mugs in his hand. He placed one down on the coffee table in front of Ryan before picking Dylan up off the couch and bringing him in the other room. Dylan meowed, and Ryan heard bickering from the other line.

_“Ry, I was worried.”_

Ryan sighed, picking up the mug from the table and taking a sip. Caramel coffee. “I’m sorry, Brendon.” And they were. “I didn’t mean to worry you guys. And I didn’t-“ Ryan lowered their voice. “I didn’t sleep with him. We got high with his roommate and I cuddled his cat.”

_“Aww, what’s it’s name?”_

“Dylan.”

_“Like Bob?”_

“Yeah.”

_“Marry him. He likes weed and cats and beatnik musicians.”_

Ryan laughed and Jon came back in the room sans cat. “Priorities, B.” Jon sat down on the couch and sipped his own cup patiently. “I’ll be home later, promise.”

_“Okay. Hey…Ryan?”_

“Yeah?” They asked, and there was a long pause on the other end of the line.

_“Can we cuddle when you get home? If you’re busy it’s okay-“_

Their heart clenched in shame. Ryan was right, they’d let their friends slip through the cracks. “Yeah, Bren. I’d like that.”

_“‘kay. See you later.”_

Ryan said their goodbyes and hung up the phone. They brought their mug back to their lips and took a long sip, letting out a moan.

“Everything okay?” Jon asked, tacking a yawn onto the end. His legs stretched out in front of him, and Ryan felt bad that he slept in his jeans.

“Roommates were worried.” Ryan explained. “I don’t…” They moved their hair from their eyes. “Staying out all night isn’t a thing I do.” An understatement if Ryan ever had one. It was true. Ever since Ryan’s bad breakup when they were seventeen, going out without Spencer or Brendon stopped being a thing. “What time is it?”

“Eight.” Jon rubbed his eyes. “You need to go home?

Ryan nodded. They didn’t have to be home of course, but they felt like they needed some time with their friends and after last night, away from Jon as well. Ryan stood up and stretched their arms above their head. The sweatshirt sleeves slid down their arms, and they remembered it wasn’t theirs. “Oh, I almost forgot.”

They went to unzip it, but Jon waved them off. “It’s still cold, and I have a million hoodies.” He followed Ryan to the front door as they pulled on their boots.

“Thank you for the coffee, and last night.” Ryan straightened up, and Jon pulled the hood over their head.

“Anytime.” Jon assured them, unlocking his front door. Before Ryan realized what was happening, he had his arms wrapped around their waist.

Ryan’s stomach flipped again as they hugged back. “Tell Tom I’m down to play anytime.”

“Will do.” Jon promised as he pulled away. “Get home safe.”

As Jon’s front door closed behind Ryan, they exhaled, wondering what they’d gotten themself into.

-

The apartment was comfortably warm when Ryan got home. They let their bag slip from their shoulder onto their dining room table and pulled off their shoes.

Brendon rolled off the couch to his feet. “You’re home.” He hummed happily, walking over to Ryan. “You smell like pot.” He remarked before kissing their jaw. “He gave you his hoodie, that’s a twenty-first century engagement ring.”

Ryan rolled their eyes and walked with Brendon down the hall. “Shut up. Go get in my bed, I’m gonna say hey to Spencer.” Brendon nodded, and shuffled into Ryan’s open door. As the door closed slightly behind him, Ryan noted how he walked with his shoulders rolled forwards. They knocked on the door, but didn’t wait for Spencer to reply before entering.

Spencer stretched out on his twin bed with a cigarette hanging from his mouth. He turned his head to look at Ryan. “Good, you’re not dead. That’s nice to know.” He quipped, tone cold.

Ryan walked around Brendon’s bed to stand next to Spencer’s. “It won’t happen again.”

Spencer sat up and ashed into the ashtray on his bedside table. “I’m not your mother, you can do whatever you want.” He brought the cigarette back up to his lips and took another drag, pointedly not looking at Ryan.

Ryan plucked the stick from between his lips and held it safely away as they kissed Spencer’s forehead. “I’ll call next time.” They apologized, taking a drag before putting it back between their best friend’s lips.

Spencer hummed around the cigarette, and Ryan left him alone. Sometimes it was easy to forget that Spencer felt responsible for all of them; a roll he shouldn’t have felt the need to take on as the youngest of the three.

Ryan closed their door behind them as they stripped. Taking off their day-old layers, they looked at Brendon. He was curled up under Ryan’s old blanket, flipping through a book Ryan had disregarded on the floor. Left in their bralette and panties, they read the cover. “Looking to take up counterculture, Bren?” They asked playfully.

Brendon put the copy of On The Road back down on the floor. “Maybe.” He mumbled. Ryan frowned as they lifted up the cover and lied down on top of Brendon.

“I’m worried about you.” Ryan kissed the juncture where his shoulder met his neck. They knew it was a weak spot for him, and it showed when he leaned up into Ryan’s mouth.

“‘m fine.” Brendon hummed, wrapping his arms around Ryan’s waist. They pushed up on their elbows and looked down at Brendon. His eyes were sunken in; surrounded by dark circles.

They rested their forehead against Brendon’s. “I don’t think you are.” Ryan rubbed their nose against Brendon’s.

He didn’t argue with Ryan, instead running his fingers up and down their spine. “It’s still early, can we just sleep?” It was less of a question, and more of a plead. Ryan wanted to argue. Ryan wanted to force him to tell them what was wrong. Why wasn’t he sleeping? Why wasn’t he fighting back when Spencer picked an argument? Why was he never home?

But Ryan nodded, rolled over, pulled him to their chest, and they fell asleep.

-

Ryan spent the weekend alternatively making Brendon sleep and hanging out with Spencer. Doing both at the same time, they learned, was impossible. Brendon and Spencer avoided each other like the plague and if they didn’t, they fought. Or, at least, Spencer fought. Brendon didn’t fight back.

It was something they’d seen him do before; push buttons until he got some sort of reaction. Brendon used to call him out on his bullshit. Spit back whatever quick wit Spencer tried to use and counter every argument. But Brendon wasn’t taking the bait anymore, he just let Spencer make jokes and pick fights and poke and prod. He never fought back.

Saturday night Spencer wasn’t letting the two of them nap anymore as he played the drums from the next room. Ryan knew he was trying to get Brendon to come and tell him to shut up. To cut a slit in every one of his drums. To break his sticks. Anything.

Brendon got out of Ryan’s bed and Ryan followed him into his bedroom. Instead of saying anything to Spencer, telling him to stop being an ass, he fished around in the closet. Ryan peaked at Spencer only to see he was watching Brendon. He kept playing for a moment, but then stopped when Brendon didn’t acknowledge him.

“What are you doing?” Spencer demanded. His face shown with sweat as his hair stuck to his face.

Brendon pulled a pair of black leather pants from his closet that, Ryan observed, he must have purchased from the teen girls section of a store. “Going out.” He answered, voice level. Brendon turned around and looked Spencer square in the eye. “Have you seen my tight red t-shirt? The one that matches my glasses?”

Spencer’s mouth turned up at the corners, and Ryan frowned. “Why? Trying to look like a slut?” He mocked. Ryan opened their mouth to tell him that was too far, but Brendon spoke before they could.

“Yeah, they fuck me rougher when I do.” He nodded in agreement. Spencer’s hands clenched around his sticks and Brendon turned to Ryan. “I’m going to see if it’s in your closet.” And he was gone before Ryan could even reply.

Ryan turned to Spencer completely. His knuckles were going white around his sticks. “I know what you’re doing, and you’re need to find a new approach because it’s not fucking working.” Ryan somehow kept their voice even despite wanting to smack their friend around the head. “And that was too far.”

“It’s always worked.” Spencer bit back. “I say something rude, he tells me what’s wrong, and I can fix it. But he’s not letting me fix anything.” His voice cracked at the end, and the sticks fell from his hands.

“He doesn’t seem to want either of us to fix anything.” Ryan had to agree, no matter how much they didn’t want to, because it was true. Brendon hadn’t told them about anything. Not how he was adjusting to his classes, how he was adjusting to his sexuality, how he was adjusting to Chicago. Nothing. Brendon used to never shut up. Now, they’d pay him to say anything.

Brendon ducked back in the room wearing pants that looked painted on and his too small red shirt. Ryan noticed he’s also found their make-up, as his eyes were lined with black smudge.

“I’m going out to get fucked like a slut,” He said matter-of-factly. “I’ll be home before breakfast.” Brendon directed that last part to Ryan, kissing their cheek before leaving the room. The front door closed gently, but the sound echoed throughout their whole home.

-

Brendon crawled into Ryan’s bed when he got home. There were black streaks down his cheeks.

-

When Ryan woke up Sunday morning, the smell of breakfast filled the apartment. Brendon was still asleep and Ryan was thankful. They eased themself out of bed carefully, and quietly padded into the bathroom. Plugging up the bathtub, they turned the faucet to hot.

As the water run, Ryan wondered how things could get so messy in such little time. Spencer was stressed, Brendon was like a shell of himself, and Ryan may or may not have developed a crush on their only other friend. Well, apart from Tom, but Ryan still wasn’t sure Tom counted.

Once the water was how they wanted it, they made their way back to their room and gently shook Brendon’s shoulder. “Bren, wake up.”

Brendon stirred, blinking his mascara-clumped eyes open. “Morning.” He greeted, voice rough.

Ryan didn’t want to think about why. “I made you a bath, so you’re going to get in it.” Their town was playful, but it wasn’t an option. And unlike with Spencer, Brendon didn’t want to fight.

“That sounds nice.” He hummed, swinging his legs off the side of the bed. He winced as he stood up, and Ryan winced in sympathy. “Smells like pancakes.” Brendon noted as Ryan followed him out of the room.

“I’m pretty sure Spencer’s making pancakes.” Ryan informed him, leaning in the bathroom doorway. Brendon didn’t reply, just dipped his fingers in the water; testing the temperature. “Bren, I know you’re not stupid, I know you know what he’s been doing.”

Brendon sat down on the lip of the tub, nodding. “I know.” He confirmed. “He wants me to break, but I’m fine. I’m calm.” Ryan wanted to mention that that was part of the problem. Brendon, for as long as Ryan had known him, didn’t do calm. But if Spencer couldn’t get Brendon to admit it, Ryan definitely couldn’t.

They pushed off the doorway. “I’m going to make sure Spencer doesn’t burn the kitchen. No rush.” As Ryan closed the bathroom door behind them, they thought they could see a handprint on Brendon’s hip.

-

Spencer was leaning against their tiny counter space with a Saturn-shaped mug when Ryan walked into the kitchen. “Why did you buy this mug?” He asked, frowning down at the drink in his hand. “The handle is sideways.”

“It’s unique.” Ryan countered, getting a mug of their own from the cabinet.

“It’s unnecessarily complicated.” He put down the planet cup and stepped to the stove, and it was then Ryan noticed just how much Spencer was cooking. “Spence, Brendon is a twig he’s not going to eat all this.” They pointed out as Spencer flipped pancakes, folded omelets, and stirred home fries.

“Then we’ll have leftovers.” He mumbled. Ryan didn’t want to point out that pancakes didn’t really reheat well.

Spencer turned all the burners to low before turning back next to Ryan. He took his own mug and grabbed Ryan’s before moving to their dining table. “How’ve you been, Ryan Ross?” He asked, setting Ryan’s drink next to his own. Ryan sat down next to him, and sipped their mug.

The two best friends talked for a half hour. They learned Spencer hated his  Writing & Rhetoric class because “I like numbers and music I’m not a fucking writer what the fuck”. Mentioning they loved their W&R class led to Spencer told them to fuck off. Ryan put off talking about Jon as long as possible, but Spencer wasn’t letting it slide.

“So, you and Jon?”

Ryan felt their face get hot. “What about him?” They asked, looking pointedly down at their mostly empty cup.

“You two dating?” He asked, and in that moment Ryan daydreamed about the floor swallowing them whole.

“No, Spencer, God.” They hissed.

Spencer leaned forward on his elbows. “You want to be?” And it wasn’t a teasing question, it was a genuine one.

And finally, Ryan let themself think about it. Lunch dates becoming actual dates. Sleeping over intentionally, not just because they fell asleep on the couch. Kisses that meant more than when they kissed Brendon. Hand holding, cuddling, smoking, sex, brunch, dates, everything.

Ryan wanted all of it, and they wanted it with him.

“Yeah.” They nodded, eyes following the swirls of their coffee. “I like him. A lot.”

“Then fucking do something about it.” Ryan’s head shot up and looked at Spencer. His face wasn’t annoyed, or mad, or teasing. Spencer meant it.

The bathroom door opened and it ended the conversation. Brendon came into their living space in the the pink robe Ryan saw at the Goodwill and had to get him. He looked between the two of them slowly, glasses missing, before he het his eyes fell on Spencer. “Spencer Smith did you make me pancakes?”

Spencer got up from his chair and wrapped his arms around Brendon. “I went out and got the butter-flavored syrup you like.” He offered.

Ryan watched as Brendon slowly hugged him back, hooking his chin over Spencer’s shoulder. “Trying to butter me up, Smith?” Brendon joked, and Ryan saw Spencer’s shoulders shake with laugher.

It wasn’t much, but it was a start.

-

Things started to go back to normal after that weekend. Or, at least, as much as they could.

 

“So you’re roommate is being polite, not bringing home one-night stands, and you guys are…mad about it?” Jon raised an eyebrow, confused.

Ryan rolled their eyes and pulled their legs up on the couch. “No, dumbass.” They wiggled their toes under Jon’s thighs for warmth. “Brendon is like, the poster child of ADHD.” Ryan explained. “He doesn’t do calm, or quiet. And he definitely doesn’t do privacy.” Just talking about Brendon’s recent personality shift made them unsettled. Ryan reached into their bag and found a loose cigarette in a side pouch.

Jon reached into his pocket and stretched across the couch. Ryan put the stick between their lips and Jon cupped his hand around it. He burned the end until it lit, and shoved it back in his pocket. “Is he medicating?” Jon asked, watching as Ryan exhaled smoke over the coffee table.

Ryan shook their head. “He wouldn’t. Brendon’s not a doctor guy, and he definitely wouldn’t do it without telling Spencer.” Jon put up his hands in defense.

“I’m just guessing.” He excused. His hand moved from his lap to Ryan’s calf. It took everything in them not to lock up as he absentmindedly drew circles on their leggings. “Hey, you want to come to a party?”

Ryan blinked. “A party?”

They knew Spencer and Brendon had gone to a couple at the beginning of the year, and if they had to guess Brendon probably went to a few when he went out at night. But Ryan hadn’t been to any since the ex from hell. They’d always enjoyed them, absolutely, but they didn’t go out of their way to find parties once she was gone.

“Tom throws a huge bonfire on the beach every Halloween.” He explained. “Invites all our friends, local band guys and stuff. No costumes or anything, but It’s a good time.” Ryan still said nothing, and Jon picked at his nails. “I mean, you don’t have to-“

Their mouth moved before their brain stopped them. “Yes.”

Jon’s head whipped up to look at Ryan. “Really?” His eyes lit up, and Ryan felt bad. Jon was probably into parties, and hanging out with people, and Ryan had been monopolizing all of his time. The least they could do was go to his friend’s party. Especially because Tom and Ryan were friendly.

“You should bring Brendon and Spencer.” He continued, and it took everything in them not to laugh at the offer.

“You.”

“Me.”

“Want to meet my friends.”

“Unless you’re keeping me a secret, yeah.” Jon laughed.

Ryan thought about a million hypothetical scenarios. Spencer interrogating Jon. Brendon fucking Jon’s friends. Someone letting Ryan’s crush slip. Brendon falling into the fire pit. Brendon falling into the ocean.

A lot of their made-up scenarios involved Brendon getting hurt.

“Yeah, sure, I bet they’d love to meet you.” Ryan agreed. “I’ll tell them.”

“The four of us could all hang out beforehand.” Jon pointed out. He leaned forward and grabbed the joint he’d rolled for them off the table.

“Oh no.” Ryan immediately assured him. “You want to meet my friends in a social setting, not when you’re locked in a room alone with them.” Not that a scenario like this had ever happened, but it was an educated guess.

They inched themself across the couch to sit cross-legged, knee-to-knee with Jon. “Weed please.” Ryan hummed, and Jon laughed.

“You’re only friends with me for my weed and my cat.” He fake-pouted, rolling the joint between his fingers as he lit the cherry. He handed Ryan the joint, and they took the first hit before handing it back.

“Yeah, Jon.” They exhaled. Ryan’s eyes followed his calloused fingers as he relit the end. “Just the cat and the weed.”


	8. Chapter 8

Secretly, Ryan had been hoping Spencer and Brendon would find their own Halloween plans. But when, a couple days before the holiday Ryan asked them what they were up to, they hadn’t gotten so lucky.

“I’ve got an exam the day after, so nothing really.” Spencer shrugged, flipping through notes he’d spread across the coffee table. The Nightmare Before Christmas soundtrack was playing in Brendon’s radio on the floor next to the couch. “Maybe buy some candy in case any kids live in this building.”

“I’m not doing anything either.” Brendon spoke up from where he was laying across the floor with a guitar on his stomach. Ryan thought maybe he was trying to accompany the radio. “Halloweekend starts Friday night anyways, so my plans are technically in November.”

Brendon still wasn’t opening up, but he wasn’t avoiding them anymore. He didn’t tell them what he got up to at night, how his classes were, or how he was feeling, but he did make movie suggestions and ask Spencer for extra syrup on his pancakes. He still wasn’t himself, but Rome wasn’t built in a day.

“Jon wanted me to invite you guys to a party.” Ryan mentioned casually, pulling their feet up onto the window bench. “It’s a big bonfire Tom on the beach on Halloween his.”

Brendon’s playing stopped, and he tilted his head back to look up at Ryan. “Okay.” He accepted simply. “I want to meet Jon, and I like parties.” Pointing at Spencer, he then declared “Spencer is coming too because he doesn’t leave the apartment.” Spencer hit him in the chest with a pencil. “Don’t pretend you don’t want to meet Ry’s boyfriend.”

Ryan nudged Brendon’s head with their foot. “Not my boyfriend.” There was no malice behind the action of the words.

“Oh I’m absolutely coming.” Spencer assured, looking away from his work. “If not to make sure Jon is a good guy, then to make sure Brendon doesn’t catch on fire.”

Ryan rolled their eyes. “Jon is a good guy.”

“And I won’t catch on fire.”

“And I’m just going to make sure of that.” Spencer shrugged. “So you can tell Jon we’ll both be there.”

-

“That’s great!”

Ryan glared at Jon across the Starbucks counter. It was an unusually slow day, so Ryan had taken to just leaning against the sales counter. Jon smiled when Ryan glared and handed them a cookie from the display box.

“I want to meet your friends. I want your friends to meet my friends.” He waved his hands over his head. “Everyone can be everyone’s friend.” Ryan’s glare did nothing to dissuade his smile.

“You’re happiness is exhausting.” But they bit the cookie anyways. “I’ll probably drive us all down to the beach in The Wagon.” Ryan planned out loud. “I’ll pack Band-Aids.”

Jon quirked an eyebrow. “Band-Aids?”

“For when Brendon hurts himself.” Ryan nodded.

“Oh, of course.” A customer entered the shop, and Ryan stepped aside to let them order. “Why would you drive?” Jon asked, taking the customer’s order. “Take the train so you all can enjoy the party.” He handed the customer their receipt and told them their name would be called.

“I don’t drink.” Ryan looked away from Jon, looking for anything to change the subject. “Hey do you make those cake pops?” They internally winced at themself. Smooth.

“I help.” He shrugged, pumping flavor into a cup. “You don’t drink?” Jon asked, conversationally.

Ryan wanted to scream. Why did everyone always want an explanation to everything? Why wasn’t no ever enough? “That’s what I said.” Their tone was maybe a bit harsher than intended. Jon didn’t deserve that. “Sorry.” They mumbled, looking down at their hands.

“Don’t be.” He shook his head, putting a lid on the drink. “You did say that, you’re right.” Jon called out the customer’s name and they collected their drink with a smile before leaving. When no new customers replaced her, he wiped his hands off on his apron before looking back at Ryan. “Are your friends going to kill me?” Jon asked, leaning his elbows on the counter.

Ryan thought about how Brendon egged their ex-girlfriend’s house and Spencer drove the getaway car. Ryan thought about how Spencer destroyed the bicycle of the boy who took Ryan’s virginity after he decided it was “just a phase”.

“Depends.” Ryan matched Jon’s posture, leaning forward on their elbows. “Do you own a bicycle?”

-

The sounds of waves crashing against rocks got louder as Ryan walked with Spencer and Brendon to the crowd on Promontory Park. Top forty songs coming from a radio near the fire were drowned out by the noise of the celebration. The wind was stronger, colder by the ocean, and Ryan zipped their hoodie up to their chin.

Despite not knowing anyone, Brendon lead the three of them to the fire. “He’s trying to kill me.” Spencer wined to Ryan as the bunny tail bobbed above Brendon’s ass. Little pink purse swung in his hand as he surveyed the crowd, corset snug on his waist. “This isn’t even a fucking costume party.”

“Elle Woods is a feminist icon, Smith.” Ryan clapped Spencer on the shoulder.

Brendon branched off from them as soon as they entered the throng. Spencer watched him with a pained look on his face, and Ryan grabbed his elbow. “He’s allowed to have fun if you’re not going to do anything.” Ryan pulled him away from Brendon’s direction.

Spencer reluctantly looked away from the pink tights that wove through people. “So where’s your not-boyfriend?” He asked, looking around at faces as though he would be able to tell which one was Jon.

Ryan surveyed the different groups in the crowd. Drinking, dancing, smoking-

“I know where he is.” They assured, leading Spencer over to the bonfire. There, people were passing around joints; talking and laughing. Ryan saw a familiar mop of curls. Ryan walked up behind Jon and looked down at the top of his head. “Who trusted you near an open flame?”

Jon tilted his head back against Ryan’s stomach and his grin reached from eye to eye. “Ryan Ross.” He hummed. “You made it.”

Ryan smiled down at him. “Jon Walker, did you get high?” They asked simply.

Tom turned away from the fire towards the two of them. “He is surprisingly sober.” His eyes gravitated to Spencer. “Ryan’s friends! One friend.” He quickly amended. “Where’s friend number two?”

“If you see a Playboy Bunny, that’s him.” Spencer quipped, and when Tom laughed a tiny weight lifted from Ryan’s chest. “Spencer.” He introduced, shaking Tom’s hand.

Jon stood up from the bench and walked around to stand in front of the two of them. “Spencer Smith.” Jon smiled. Ryan smiled at how his name sounded coming from Jon’s mouth. “It is very nice to meet you.” Before Spencer could extend his hand, Jon had Spencer in a bear hug.

Spencer raised his eyebrow at Ryan over Jon’s shoulder as he tentatively hugged him back. “Nice to meet you too, dude.” He gave Jon two awkward pats on the back, and Jon let him go.

Jon turned back to Ryan, and Spencer made kissy faces over Jon’s shoulder. Ryan resisted the urge to shove him. “So Miss October is Brendon?” Jon asked.

“Unfortunately.” Spencer sighed. “I’m gonna go find him, I’ll be back.”

Ryan watched him until he disappeared back into the crowd of people. When he looked back at Jon, he was already looking at them. “What?” They asked, crossing their arms. “Spencer can be hard to warm up, but-“

“I’m happy you actually came.” Jon shrugged. “To be honest, I wasn’t sure if you were gonna show up.” He admitted.

Goosebumps spread up their arms under their hoodie. As they rubbed their arms through the fabric, they knew it wasn’t from the cold. “I’m not a flake, Jon.” Ryan cocked their hip and crossed their arms across their chest. “I would have at least sent you a classic “jk changed my mind” text.”

Jon didn’t laugh. Ryan noticed he wasn’t even looking them in the eye; he was staring at their chest. “My eyes are up here, Jon Walker.” They remarked, and Jon looked up at Ryan at the sound of his name.

“Sorry, zoned out.” He apologized. “I just.” Jon pointed a finger at Ryan. “That’s my hoodie.”

Panic hit Ryan’s knees. “No it isn’t.” They automatically agued, and Jon smiled.

“Oh really?” Jon challenged. “Did you also graduate from Bartlett High? Home of the hawks?” He questioned. Ryan hoped the glow of the fire covered their blush. “I forgot I lent you that, I was wondering where it went.”

Guilt hit Ryan. “I forgot I had it.” They lied, fingers going up to the zipper. “Here, before I forget-“

“Hey, no.” They got the zipper down halfway before Jon caught their hands and stilled them against their stomach. “I have a million hoodies. Keep it.” He gently nudged Ryan’s hands aside and pulled the zipper back up to their neck. “Your frail, mummy body wasn’t meant for the cold.” He ribbed gently.

Jon himself was dressed in a black t-shirt with a pumpkin on the front. If they looked down, Ryan was sure they’d see sandals. Sometimes, Ryan thought he wore summer clothes just to irk them. They shoved their hands back in their pockets.

“Is this Jon Walker?!” Brendon exclaimed where he was leaning against Spencer’s side. The two walked up to Ryan and Brendon pushed himself off of Spencer to wrap his arms around Jon’s neck. “It is so nice to meet you, Jon Walker.” He closed his eyes, humming as he hugged Jon tight.

Ryan heard Spencer’s chest rumble as Jon hugged him back just as tightly. Luckily for Jon, he pulled back and kept a tipsy Brendon Urie at arms length. “Oh, you’re not a Playboy Bunny, you’re Elle Woods.” Jon nodded, and Ryan smiled as Brendon beamed at him.

“I knew I’d like you.” Brendon bounced on his toes, his tail bobbing as he started a monologue about Legally Blonde being a masterpiece of cinema.

-

The five of them huddled together on the rocks by the water. The party was close buy and in full swing, but this way they could actually talk to one another. Brendon was settled in Spencer lap, kicking his legs back and forth as he talked to Jon and Tom about Chicago punk music. In his hand was a bottle of beer and Ryan wondered how they’d missed that Brendon started drinking.

“God, me and JWalk used to do the dumbest shit when we were in bands in high school.” Ryan turned in as Tom laughed. “Dumb fucking dares when we’d smoked way too much.”

Jon giggled, full-out giggled, and Ryan smiled. “I’m sure I did at least one dare when I was sober.” Jon tried to convince them. Even after only knowing him two hours, Spencer snorted in disbelief. Ryan patted Jon’s thigh in condolence. “Okay then, dare me. Right now, Tom Conrad, give me a dare.”

“A double dog dare.” Brendon giggled and Jon pointed at him in in support.

Tom stood up and puffed out his chest. Ryan had a bad feeling in their gut. “I triple dog dare you,”

“A triple dog dare.” Brendon hissed to Spencer, who was looking at Ryan.

“To dive into the water. Right now.” He grinned with smug pride, and Ryan kind of wanted to vomit. Surely, Ryan thought, Jon wasn’t going to actually do it.

Jon stood up and unbuttoned his pants.

“You’re on, TomRad.” Jon squared his shoulders and kicked off his jeans. He tugged his shirt over his head and Ryan stared at his thighs. His boxers had little orange pumpkins on them; his thighs pale and solid.

Tom and Brendon giggled as Jon stepped up to the edge of the rock, looking out at the water over the edge. Ryan’s hand locked up. They looked over at Spencer, hoping he could see Ryan’s panic because their throat wasn’t making words.

He did. “You don’t know what’s in that water.” Spencer warned. Ryan noted his arms tightened around Brendon’s waist; probably making sure he didn’t follow Jon’s example.

“It’s deep enough.” Tom assured and before Spencer could think of another excuse, Jon was in the water.

And he didn’t come back up.

They let out an involuntary whine as they thought about all the things that could have happened. Syringes in the water, hit his head on rock, eaten by a trillion tiny fish. Twenty seconds, and he still hadn’t come back up. Ryan whined louder.

“Okay, fuck.” Tom kicked off his shoes and tore off his shirt before jumping in the legs first. His head stayed above water as the water went up to his nipples. “Fuck me!” He shouted. Ryan could see him count to three before submerging himself for only a moment before coming back up with Jon.

People from the party had made their way over from their drunken celebration to see what the commotion was, and Ryan wanted to cry as they watched Jon cough up water. They wanted to help, but their dumb arms would do more harm than good. Another partygoer stepped up and pulled Jon out of the water.

Tom hoisted himself out of the water and rolled Jon onto his side. Water spluttered out of his mouth and Ryan finally breathed.

“Cold water shock.” Spencer quietly informed as Tom rubbed Jon’s back. Ryan looked over at him. “It’s when your body, like, forgets how to move it’s so cold and you just inhale water.” Brendon squirmed anxiously in his lap.

Tom helped Jon sit up and Ryan’s brain remembered how to work. They collected Jon’s clothes and hurried over to the wet pair. Jon’s boxers clung to his legs as he took in shaky breaths. He must have heard their footsteps because he looked up as Ryan dropped to their knees in front of him.

Ryan tugged his t-shirt over his head and Tom helped his arms through the holes. It didn’t stop him shivering and Ryan wanted to cry. “You’re an idiot.” They hissed. Jon didn’t argue, he didn’t say anything, and it only made Ryan angrier. “Fucking jumping into freezing water. You could have fucking drowned.” Ryan wanted to smack him silly.

“This is why we don’t do dares.” Tom reminded Jon. He grabbed his own shirt and tugged it onto Jon, who was more responsive and helpful in getting his arms through the holes this time. Without thinking about it, Ryan unzipped their hoodie and wrapped it around Jon’s shoulder. It was like the wind went straight through them, but they were completely numb to it.

Jon’s mouth moved into a teeth-chattering smile. “I-I know I a-almost drowned.” His voice scratched. “B-but you de-definitely need these layers m-m-more than me.”

It definitely didn’t help his breathing, but Ryan couldn’t help themself when they threw themself at Jon; hugging him as tightly as they could. “If you ever scare me like that again I will hold your head down in a sink and drown you myself do you understand me?”

“Yes ma’am.” He whispered, and Ryan did not cry. Ryan Ross did not cry.

A hand tapped on Ryan’s shoulder and they opened their eyes they didn’t realize were closed. Tom was smiling sympathetically. “We should probably get home. So he can rest.”

“No.” Ryan said immediately, and they knew it sounded pathetic as it came out. “I mean, we can all go back to our place?” They backpedaled. it was irrational, they knew it was, but part of them was afraid if they let go of him, he’d be drowning again.

Tom gave them a sympathetic smile. “Ryan, I don’t-“

“That sounds nice.” Jon cut him off with a hum. “Only takes me almost drowning to get to see your apartment, huh?” Ryan felt his fingers gently squeeze their hips before they made themself let go.

Ryan turned around and Spencer was standing behind them, Brendon piggybacked onto him. “Jon Walker coming over?” Brendon asked Spencer, nose pressed to his cheek. Spencer winced, their friend’s tipsy shouting right into his ear.

“Yea, Bren.” Spencer hauled him up his back where he was slipping. “Jon’s coming over.”


	9. Chapter 9

Ryan followed Spencer into the kitchen, leaving the three boys in the living room. Jon seemed quite comfortable to lay across the couch with his head in Brendon’s lap as the younger boy prattled on about seventies rock. Tom made himself comfortable in the window seat, throwing out his own opinions to Brendon’s sweeping statement whenever applicable.

“Stop staring.” Spencer rolled his eyes, bringing Ryan back to the kitchen. He pulled out mugs as he set the coffee pot to sober up Tom and Brendon.

Speaking of which. “When did Brendon start drinking?” Ryan asked Spencer as the man in question’s laughter filled the living room. Up until about a year ago, Brendon hadn’t even had soda let alone alcohol. And even then, he knew how they felt about being around drunk people.

“No clue, but he did get trashed at that party we went to for freshman the first week of college.” Spencer informed, focusing very hard on the cat-shaped mug. “Some nights he comes home smelling like a liquor store. I didn’t want to worry you.”

Ryan was worried. Brendon wasn’t sleeping or eating, he was coming home at odd hours, fucking strangers, getting stoned, and apparently always smelled like booze. How had they missed this?

Spencer’s hand on their shoulder brought them from their thoughts. “We can try talking to him. But not tonight considering you made your boyfriend come over.” He tried to tease. Ryan noticed the bags under his eyes were darker than they remembered.

Ryan carried two mugs of coffee into the living room as Spencer balanced the other three. Spencer handed Tom and Brendon each a cup before sitting down on the corner of the coffee table. As Jon sat up slowly from Brendon’s lap, Spencer filled the empty space between the two. Ryan handed Jon the cat-shaped mug, and he beamed.

“Cat mug?” He sipped the coffee and a low hum echoed through his chest. “Spencer Smith, you’d make a good barista if you want a job.”

Ryan pouted, sitting down on the floor between Spencer and Jon. “How do you know I didn’t make it?” They raised their chin, pouting, as Spencer nodded an “I’ll think about it.”

Jon stretched out his fingers and gave Ryan’s head a pet. “Because I have a feeling you could burn water.” He teased, and Brendon snorted into his mug as Ryan huffed.

“Don’t make fun of me in my own home.” Without thinking about it, Ryan shuffled on the ground to place their back against the couch. Without having to be asked, Jon started playing with their hair like he did when they were at his place. They could feel Spencer’s eyes on their face, so they ducked their head back down to their drink.

Tom broke the silence and Ryan quietly thanked every God they didn’t believe in. “Can I smoke in here?” He asked, and Brendon’s already bright eyes brightened.

-

Brendon and Tom passed the blunt back and forth, and open window between them where they sat together in the window bench. Spencer and Ryan shared a cigarette on the couch as Ryan leaned into Jon, who was banned from any smoking activities because “Your lungs were just filled with water Jonny you’re not filling it with smoke too.”

“Spencer Smith,” Jon started, getting Spencer’s attention where he was not-so-subtly keeping an eye on Brendon and Tom. “now that Ryan isn’t hiding you from me anymore-“

“I wasn’t hiding Spencer.” Ryan remarked, while Spencer added “More like hiding you from us.”

“-what dirty secrets can you tell me about Ryan?” He asked, wiggling his eyebrows. Ryan rolled their eyes and tipped their head back to Jon’s shoulder.

“I don’t have dirty secrets.” They lied, glaring at Spencer.

“Oh, come on.” Jon wiggled his finger into Ryan’s side. The digit felt hard against their ribs. Their shoulder was probably digging into Jon’s side as well. “I think you’ve told me more about Spencer and Brendon than you have about yourself.”

Ryan knew it was true. By now, Jon probably knew Spencer’s social security number. But honestly, Ryan always found themself very boring. Just because their life was fucked up didn’t make them interesting. It made them pathetic. Jon probably wanted to hear that Ryan was a stripper who moonlit as a burlesque dancer and had a third nipple, not that they avoided looking at themself naked, didn’t have a mother, and had an alcoholic father.

“Ryan’s dirtiest secrets include loving puppies and being a socialist.” Spencer saved them with a roll of his eyes.

“Capitalism is a hellscape and dogs don’t forget my pronouns.” Ryan crossed their arms and Jon giggled.

Ryan would get around to telling Jon everything. One day. Maybe. But not today.

Brendon giggled in the corner, and when Ryan looked over he was leaning into Tom with a grin on his face. Glancing over at Spencer, Ryan saw him clenching his jaw before moving to sit on the corner of the coffee table and interjecting himself into their conversation, taking the cigarette with him

Jon shifted his torso so that his chin was on Ryan’s shoulder, their back to his chest. “Would you say Spencer is…a violent man?” He whispered, watching as Tom leaned farther away from Brendon the more Spencer talked.

They involuntarily shivered as Jon’d breath his the side of their neck. “If he was, I think Bren would be dead by now.” Ryan mused. The two of them watched as Tom not-so-subtly shifted to the far end of the window bench. Spencer had always been protective of Brendon, through Ryan would call it possessive. After watching what felt like endless water flow from Jon’s mouth, Ryan understood Spencer a little more.

“You can’t do that to me again.” They felt selfish as the word were coming out. Ryan didn’t own Jon. Hell, they barely knew him. But they couldn’t stop themself. “I mean it, Jon. It wasn’t funny.”

“It wasn’t.” He agreed. Jon tipped his head forward and let his forehead gently rest on Ryan’s head. His nose brushed against their curls, tickling the back of their neck. “The water was- I couldn’t move, Ry. And then it was all dark and my lungs just filled up.”

Shifting their head to the side, Jon’s head gently moved to their shoulder. Ryan let their hand come up and worked their fingers into his hair. It was still slightly damp under their fingertips. “You’re okay now though.” Whether Ryan was reminding him or themself, they weren’t sure. Pressing fingertips to his scalp, Ryan felt Jon’s shaky breath on their shoulder.

He took a deep breath and raised his head, chin resting on their shoulder. “I like your apartment.” Jon commented, and Ryan realized the topic was done. “I like your weird mugs.”

“They’re not weird they’re quirky.” Ryan pouted and Jon’s laugh wasn’t strong, but it was there.

“I bet your bedroom has, like, weird taxidermy and shit.” He mused, and Ryan snorted.

“Animals deserve to still be respected after their death, Jon.” Ryan paused. “And no I don’t. I have a desk and a bed and a lamp. No animals, dead or alive.”

Jon hummed. “Bed sounds nice.” He was probably exhausted, they realized. He’d helped throw a party, almost drowned at said party, and then was forced to come over to his weird friend’s house instead of going home. Or to a hospital. Jon probably had work that day too, Ryan thought. He was always working.

“Do you want me to take you home?” Ryan asked him. Jon raised his head. “Or should I take to a doctor? I don’t know where any hospitals are around here, but you could probably give me directions. Hell, Brendon’s an idiot I should probably know where it is anyways-“

“Can I just stay over?” Jon cut off their rant. Ryan paused, feeling heat creep up their neck. “I honestly don’t feel like having Tom baby me all night.”

“You know I’ll just end up babying you, right?” Ryan asked. Granted, they weren’t really good at taking care of themself let alone someone else. They’d try for him though. Ryan couldn’t really let their only friend die.

Jon quirked an eyebrow.

“I’ll try to baby you.” They amended and Jon huffed; his eyebrow lowered and a smile spread.

“I’ll take my chances with you.” He stretched his arms over his head; yawning with Ryan still on his chest. “You don’t have to let me, you can say no-“

“My room is straight down the hall.” The words were out of their mouth before their brain knew what it was doing. They stood up, extending their hand to help their friend up, who took it graciously.

Brendon turned to look at the two of them as they stood. Spencer’s eyes were still trained on Tom; the two seemingly in a staring contest. “Tommy.” Jon got his attention.

Tom looked away from Spencer and took in his friend standing. “Sup?” He asked. “Ready to go? Cause I’m pretty stoned, so I can’t-“

“I’m staying over.” Jon cut off what they figured would be a long-winded monologue. Tom didn’t reply right away, and Ryan suspected the two were having a wordless conversation. Something Brendon got very annoyed with when Ryan and Spencer were the ones doing it.

A moment passed, and Tom spoke. “Okay.” He nodded far too many times. “I’m gonna hang out with my two new best friends, Spencer and Brendon, until I can remember where our apartment is.”

Tom stood up and hugged Jon. Ryan looked away from the two of them to their own best friends, who were both grinning like children.

“Jon’s staying over?” Spencer asked, wiggling his eyebrows.

Ryan extended their hand to Spencer. “Hi pot, I’m kettle. Nice to meet you.” Spencer didn’t take their hand, but he did stop moving his eyebrows. A victory.

Tom took their place across the couch and Spencer took no time filling the spot next to Brendon, who was happily smiling; nodding. “I’m gonna get Jonny Walker to make me pancakes in the morning.”

“Looking forward to it, Mr. Urie.” He smiled, and Ryan nudged his back to lead him away from their beaming friend.

“Please don’t feed the strays, then they keep coming back.” They joked, and Jon snickered as he headed down the hall where they’d directed. Ryan flippeded their best friends off before following him down the hall.

Ryan flicked on the light and as they shut the door behind them, they became very self conscious as Jon Walker looked around their bedroom. Even after living there a little over two months, it was still a very impersonal room. Nothing on the walls; no photos, posters, tapestries, nothing. Their bedsheets plain; a solid sea green color with matching pillow cases. The only think that could be construed as personal were the books that laid carefully stackedatop the desk and beside the bed.

Jon knelt next to the bed. Ryan watched as he read the spines, making sure not to disturb anything. “You’ll read anything, huh?” He asked, looking back at them over his shoulder.

They just shrugged. “I like a little of everything.” It definitely wasn’t a lie. Ryan caught Jon trying to suppress a yawn and remembered why they were in their room in the first place. “Sorry you’re probably really tired. I have some of Spencer’s clothes you can borrow? I’m probably too skinny. Not that you’re big, I’m just that small, I mean-“

“Spencer’s clothes sound great.” Jon saved them and they wasted no time hiding their face in the closet to find anything belonging to Spencer. Luckily by the time they found an old shirt and a pair of flannel pants, their face was cooled down enough.

Ryan gracelessly shoved the articles towards Jon. “Here.” He stood up from the floor and took the clothes with a thank you before leaving the room to change.

Once the door clicked closed in front of them, Ryan made quick work of changing into their own pajamas. For the first time in their life, they wished they had less feminine sleepwear. Not that they thought Jon would ever judge, but Ryan really didn’t want to take that chance. Pushing aside the satin and the tank tops, they found a pair of pajamas Ginger had given them for Christmas the year before. A black collared button up with matching shorts.

Jon came back in while they were setting up a makeshift bed on the floor. “Hey, what’s Panic at the Disco?” Ryan turned around and he was looking down at the ironed-on graphic on the too big black tee. “Is it, like, a band?”

“Kinda.” Ryan shrugged, throwing a pillow on top of the blanket spread out on the floor. “It’s the band me, Brendon, and Spence sorta-kinda have.” They’d made the shirts when they’d finally decided on a band name. It was cool at the time.

Jon’s eyes flicked back up to Ryan’s eyes and before they could ask what he was staring at, Jon was frowning. “You’re not sleeping on the floor.” It wasn’t a question.

“Of course I am.” They argued. “You’re a guest, Jon, I’m not gonna make you sleep on the flo-“

“No I mean we can share.”

Oh. Well, yeah. They could.

“Oh.” Ryan repeated, this time out loud. They were suddenly very aware of how long and thin their limbs were. Definitely not anyone’s first choice for cuddling. Not that there’d be any cuddling. Just, in general.

Jon rolled his eyes and stepped toe-to-toe with Ryan. He grinned cheekily before bending down to pick Ryan’s makeshift bed and toss it back onto the actual mattress. Jon then tossed himself onto the mattress, stretching out his legs and wiggling under the sheets. “Cute pjs.” He remarked.

“Shut up.” Ryan flicked off the lights and got under the sheets next to him, hiding their body from view. There was only a few inches separating the two of them and Ryan felt their body go stiff trying to keep that distance.

Jon, however, didn’t share the sentiment. He rolled over onto his side, propping himself up on his elbow to look down at Ryan. “Stop being weird. We cuddle all the time, it’s not different just because we’re in a bed.” His face was lit by the city lights leaking in through the blinds; they could see his gentle smile.

He wasn’t wrong, technically. But it felt different. They felt different. No one wanted to sleep with angles and edges. Jon was soft, but firm. His body radiated heat while Ryan’s couldn’t ever seem to get warm.

“I don’t want to cut you with my cold, pointy elbows.” Ryan joked, but even they could admit the tonal delivery was all wrong.

If he picked up on it, he didn’t let on. Jon just rolled his eyes and wrapped his arm around Ryan’s waist; it was an easy fit. “Come here, dumbass.” Ryan let themself be tugged into the warm shell of Jon’s arms. “I like the buttons.” He poked one in the middle of Ryan’s stomach. It ticked, and Ryan squirmed. On the one hand, they liked how warm Jon’s hand was through the shirt. On the other, he could probably feel their ribs.

“I like your pointy elbows.” Jon whispered before Ryan could say anything self deprecating. Maybe he did know Ryan better than they thought he did. “And I’m warm enough for the both of us.” He pushed his other arm under Ryan’s pillow. “Now stop being weird and let me sleep I almost drowned today.”

Jon pressed his forehead against Ryan’s shoulder. Maybe Chicago wasn’t that much colder than Nevada after all.

Ryan curled their back into Jon’s chest. A happy hum escaped their bed partner before he curved himself to meet Ryan’s back. Jon worked one of his legs between Ryan’s, pressing their toes together. Ryan waited for him to pull away, surely they were too cold for him. He never did. They closed their eyes.

“Brendon likes chocolate chip and if you want to get on Spencer’s good side, he has a soft spot for french toast.” Ryan murmured.

Jon rubbed his nose against Ryan’s collar. “I’ll make a grocery trip in the morning then.” He breathed, rubbing his toes against Ryan’s.

-

Jon must have kept true to his word as when Ryan finally made their way out of bed, Spencer had a stack of cinnamon-scented bread in front of him. Brendon was sat on the edge of the table with a syrup-soaked plate on his lap talking to their guest, who was back in his jeans, sipping coffee.

“Ryan, can Jon move in?” Brendon moaned, licking his fingers. “He makes better pancakes than you.”

Ryan frowned at Jon, pouting. “You’re turning my friends against me.”

Jon smiled before taking a plate out of the microwave and handing it to Ryan. The looked down at the plate, then back up at Jon; down at the plate, then back up at Jon.

“How did you know I loved strawberry?” They asked, taking the fork he handed them.

He didn’t answer, just winked. Brendon called the two of them over, and the four of them sat down together at the dining table. Ryan took a bite as Brendon laughed at something Jon said. Ryan noticed the exclamation point on Jon’s shirt and thought about the hawk-laden hoodie on their bedroom floor.

They shrugged and shoved their fork into their mouth. It was only fair, after all.


	10. Chapter 10

Things started picking up around the newspaper in the weeks leading up to the Thanksgiving holiday and more often than not, Ryan found themself spending non-class hours at the paper. Linda was heading out of town to spend the holiday with her long-distance girlfriend, so she was on edge; making sure everything would be ready for her departure. She was usually a very kept-together woman; hair tied back into a neat ponytail, blazer and jeans her usual attire. But most of November, she was in disarray; flyaway strands of hair accompanying an untucked flannel.

The only time she relaxed, Ryan noticed, was when she checked her phone. Ryan assumed they were texts from her girlfriend. They sighed. If anyone deserved a loving partner, it was Linda, but they couldn’t help but feel a little jealous.

Jon set a cup of coffee on Linda’s desk before walking over to where Ryan was sitting and pulling up a chair. He set two coffees in front of them along with a doggie bag. “Banana nut bread and a PSL, because you’re a slut for fall.” He smiled, pulling a drink from the tray, taking the paper off the stray, and sliding it over to Ryan.

“I like the crunchy leaves.” And sweaters and leg warmers and scarves and gloves. Ryan wrapped their tongue around the straw and slurped.

Jon smiled and took a sip of his own drink. “I know you do.” He set his cup down and put his camera bag on the floor. “You want to come with me for my Thanksgiving piece?”

Every year the school newspaper did a Thanksgiving edition; “puff piece bullshit” as Linda liked to call it. Interviews with students and faculty discussing what they’re thankful for and their holiday traditions, photos of what fall life was like around the city. Linda hated doing it, but it was their most popular issue; parents loved it.

“Why?” Jon never even let Ryan help on shoots, but they loved watching Jon take the photos. He got focused in a way he didn’t with anything else and it was honestly inspiring to watch. It made Ryan want to take out their notebook and write a sonnet about Jon’s hands. Which they didn’t do. That would be weird.

“Because you’re my friend and I like your company.” He bumped his shoulder to theirs, and Ryan fought every part of their brain trying to read into it. Jon didn’t like them like that. He was being friendly.

A loud bang filled the room and Ryan almost jumped out of their skin. Across the room, Linda had thrown a cup of pens across the room. Ryan felt Jon’s hand rubbing soothing circles against their arm through their sweater and when they looked down, Ryan realized they’d dug their nails into the arm of Jon’s jacket.

They released him like it burned. “Sorry.” Ryan apologized immediately, embarrassed. They had a problem with loud, startling bangs and crashes, but Jon didn’t need to know that.

Jon hummed, patting Ryan’s arm. “S’okay. Everyone’s stressed around here.” Everyone but him, that was. “Want to get out of here and start on my project now?” He asked, giving them an out. They took it.

“Sounds good.” Ryan packed up their bag and shoved their food in their mouth. “Okimready.” Spencer would have told them not to be disgusting, but Jon laughed.

“Don’t forget your latté, pumpkin.” The corner of his mouth twitched up, eyes squinting. Grabbing his own drink, Jon walked over to Linda to let her know his plans for the upcoming issue. Ryan never thought they’d be one for pet names in a relationship, but in that moment they didn’t sound as vomit-inducing as they thought. But they weren’t in a relationship. Jon was their friend, he was nice, he was funny, and he didn’t mean anything.

-

The sky was completely clouded over, but luckily the sun had yet to set on their photography outing. A leaf fell into Ryan’s lap as they watched Jon from under a tree in Grant Park. He was kneeling next to a child, looking up and talking to who Ryan assumed was the child’s mother. They watched as Jon crawled back and pointed his camera at the kid as they rolled around in the leaves; threw them in the air, kicked them around, and threw them at Jon. Of course he was good with kids, Ryan thought, Jon was good with everyone.

After shaking the mother’s hand and giving her what they assumed was his number, Jon gave the small child a big hug before heading back over to Ryan.

“You make friends like dogs catch fleas.” Ryan remarked as Jon filled the space next to them. He put away his camera without sharing the photos, and leaned into Ryan’s side.

“I like kids.” Jon tipped his head back against the tree, looking at Ryan. “I’m the youngest of four. Family holidays are always a big event because there’s so many people home. Grandparents, aunts, uncles, nieces, nephews, siblings, parents. It’s,” He exhaled heavily, “a lot.”

Ryan, Spencer, and Brendon were staying put for the upcoming holiday. Ginger offered to fly them all out, but Spencer argued that they’d just seen the Smiths less than a handful of months ago. Besides, the Christmas break was in a month and they’d be home then.

Jon was looking at Ryan expectantly, and they realized they’d missed something he said. “What?” They asked. “Sorry I blanked out.”

“You bored of me?” He grinned, but before Ryan could apologize he continued. “I asked what your Thanksgiving plans were.”

Ryan shared with him their nonexistent plans and as they continued speaking the corners of Jon’s mouth turned farther and father down until “Okay what?” Ryan cut themself off, crossing their arms. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

“You want to come over?” Jon offered.

Ryan stared at him, confused. “Uh, okay? I mean, Spencer’s making lasagna so I do want to be home for that.“

Jon rolled his eyes. “I meant for Thanksgiving.” Ryan’s toes went numb as Jon continued. “Spencer and Brendon can come too, of course, but you’ll be more than welcome.”

Something Ryan wasn’t particularly proud of was that they weren’t exactly an open book. Even Brendon didn’t know the extent of Ryan’s family history. But Jon- Ryan hadn’t told him anything. Not about basically being adopted by the Smiths, not about the runaway mother, not about their father. Nothing.

Ryan didn’t even want to think about how Brendon felt about it all. The Uries loved family holidays. Getting together around a big table, countless family members flooding the huge home, music, laughter, all of it. From what Brendon had said back when he’d still called it home, it was a movie.

“Family holidays…aren’t something we celebrate unless we have to.” Ryan treaded lightly. It wasn’t their place to tell Jon about Brendon’s situation, and they just didn’t want him to know about theirs. “We’re probably just going to rent movies and eat popcorn.” They shrugged.

Apparently that wasn’t a good enough plan for Jon, because he made a ‘hmph’ sound. “Well what about, like, a friend holiday?” He asked. Jon must have seen the skeptical look on Ryan’s face, because he continued. “Yeah, like how people have Friendsgiving, we could do that. You, me, Tom, Spence, and Bren. We can dress up all fancy and eat off your cute dishes on the living room floor. You know Spencer would love an excuse to cook for everyone. We can a even get him a little apron.”

He was right, Spencer would love it.

“I’ll ask.” Ryan offered, and Jon took it graciously. They stretched their legs out in front of them, and Jon put his legs on top of Ryan’s. He bumped his winter boot against Ryan’s unseasonable high-tops.

“Wanna smoke and watch The Princess Bride” Jon asked randomly.

Ryan hummed. “This is why we’re friends, Jon Walker.”

-

As they suspected, Spencer was in love with the idea.

“Brendon if you help me cook I’ll make tofurky.” Spencer bribed from his spot on the couch. Brendon didn’t look up from his computer, but wiggled his toes under Spencer’s thigh in agreement. “Ryan find out what kind of pie Jon likes for me.”

Ryan watched as Brendon stared at his screen without blinking. Brendon still wasn’t talking to anyone. They’d gotten him to actually spend time with them, but when he was there he wasn’t actually there. No matter what they did, it was like Brendon was that reserved sixteen year old they met two years ago. Spencer didn’t even fluster him anymore. It’s like he didn’t feel anything at all.

But Spencer was excited, and so was Jon. So if Brendon wanted to be left alone, they’d leave him alone.

“I can’t believe your boyfriend invited you home for Thanksgiving and you said no.” Spencer snorted, picking up a Skittle from the bowl on the coffee table and throwing it at Ryan where they sat in the window box. It slipped down the front of their sweater and they plucked it from their lap and popped it in their mouth; lime.

“Not my boyfriend.” The words rolled easily off their tongue most days. It was true. Jon wasn’t their boyfriend, he was just nice. That’s how he was.

“He invited you to meet his family, Ross.” Brendon spoke up from behind his computer, fingers scrolling lazily across his trackpad. Spencer pointed at him in agreement

Ryan pulled out their phone to text Jon what his favorite pie is. “He’s nice.” They stood firm, phone keys clicking beneath their fingers. Jon replied almost the second the message was sent.

_“apple!!!!”_

Ryan sighed. Why did he have to be so…all-American?

-

The Sunday leading up to Thanksgiving found Ryan sitting in the newspaper office printing off the Thanksgiving edition of the paper. Linda had left the day before, leaving Ryan with the keys because “Yes you’ve been on the paper longer, Walker, but I trust Ryan more. Besides, you hang off them like a lost puppy anyways so I’m sure you’ll be here too.” Jon hooked his chin over Ryan’s shoulder, watching the papers shoot out of the printer.

Maybe she was a little right.

Jon pushed his hands into the pockets of Ryan’s sweater dress. “So I’m making mashed potatoes and Tom’s making mac and cheese.” He informed as the smell of ink filled the room. Their dinner was Wednesday, so Ryan and Jon needed to have the papers on stands Monday; ready for students to purchase and take home to their parents before they left. “Tom wanted to bring wine, but I vetoed that one on the account that I’m positive he’d drink it on the train.” He laughed gently to himself. Ryan felt it up their back.

“We don’t let alcohol in the apartment anyways. Spencer’s making everything else.” They changed the subject. “He likes the apron I got him. It has puppies on it.”

Jon snickered and didn’t say anything about the alcohol. “I had to get Tom a pair of slacks.” Ryan could practically feel his eyes roll. “He doesn’t own a single nice thing. I’m surprised he had a shirt with a collar, to be honest.”

“Speaking of which, do you even own close-toed shoes?” The printer stopped and Ryan pulled out the papers, carrying the stack over to a table and dropping them down with a heavy thunk.

“I do, thank you very much.” Jon informed, sitting down beside them at the table. “You have as many older siblings as I do and you need to own a nice suit. Feels like there’s a wedding every fucking year.” He grabbed a stack of sheets and started folding them into actual, sellable papers.

“I should make sure Brendon owns something nice.” Ryan mused aloud. They knew Spencer brought dress clothes to Chicago. He’d said he needed to make sure he had something presentable for any meetings or interviews he had. But Brendon was a wild card.

“Everything you own is nice.” Jon remarked, placing another newspaper in the finished pile. Clearly he’d been doing it enough over the years that the action just became muscle memory.

Ryan quirked an eyebrow. “Yesterday I wore one of Spencer’s old baseball jerseys as a tunic.” A good look, yes, but Ryan wouldn’t call it “nice”.

“Yeah,” Jon shrugged, “but you looked nice.”

They shook their head, taking some papers and folding them evenly. “You’re too nice, Jon.” He made is hard not to love him. Not that Ryan was IN love with him. But they definitely loved him. He was a good friend. “I’ll have to remind myself to get Spencer to make sure Bren has good clothes.”

Jon hummed, not looking up from his hands. They had a lot of work to do.

-

Linda sounded the least stressful Ryan had ever heard her when they called her on Tuesday to give her an update on how many issues they’d sold so far. She thanked Ryan repeatedly for taking care of the “piece of shit marshmallow fluff.” They informed her it wasn’t a problem at all, Ryan liked working on the paper.

 _“Beautiful come back inside, It’s cold.”_ Ryan heard in the background of the call right before Linda excused herself, wishing Ryan a happy school break because “fuck family enjoy sleeping in past six”.

Ryan ended the call and smiled. Linda was the best.

Before putting their phone away, they remembered to text Spence to check if Brendon had nice clothes for tomorrow. This way if he didn’t, they could pick something up on the way home.

_“home now. lemme check.”_

Ryan sent back a thank you before slipping their phone into their pocket. As they walked back from school, they stopped inside the local market to pick up ice cream for the pie. Jon would like ice cream with his pie, Ryan mused.

Walking down the isles, Ryan picked up a quart of vanilla before wandering through the store. Maybe Spencer would like a root beer float; he seemed stressed. They grabbed a six pack just in case.

As they got in line, their phone vibrated in their pocket. Balancing their purchases in one arm, Ryan pulled their phone from their pocket and looked at the screen. They rolled their eyes.

“Can you read minds?” Ryan asked Spencer, wedging their phone between their ear and their shoulder to place their items on the counter. “Because I was just thin-“

_“Ryan shut the fuck up. I found pills in Brendon’s dresser.”_

Ryan’s legs wend numb. They looked down at their purchases and didn’t even remember to apologize to the cashier as they fled the store, walking briskly towards their apartment.

“What the fuck are you talking about?” They asked, fingers gripping tight around their phone as they dodged a dog on the sidewalk. Ryan heard the pills shaking in their containers through the phone, and they wanted to throw up.

_“What the fuck do you mean what the fuck am I talking about? Pills. Adderall, Xanax, a draw full of the shit. There’s- fuck, there’s so many empty bottles in here too, he’s been doing this shit for a while and- fuck. He’s been hiding the empties under his fucking church clothes because he knew we wouldn’t look there Ryan I don’t know what to do.”_

Ryan fumbled to get their keys from their bag with one, shaky hand. “I’m outside the building, I just have to- fuck where are my fucking keys!?” They dropped the phone on the ground and pushed their laptop out of the way to find their keys hidden at the bottom of the bag. Picking up their phone, they unlocked the door and went as fast up the stairs as their legs would take them.

_“-hy he’s been acting so weird? He’s on drugs? How did I miss this how did I miss this?”_

Ryan huffed, stopping outside the door. “It’s not on you, Spence-“ They could hear him cutting them off from outside the apartment.

 _“Like fuck it isn’t. He’s my- my best friend, I share a room with him, I’m in fucking_   _love with him and I didn’t notice.”_

Spencer’s white knuckles clutched two half empty pill bottles in either hand. At the sight of Ryan standing over him, the phone fell from his shoulder. “How didn’t I notice?” He asked, helpless.

Ryan sat down beside him on the floor and pried the pills from his hands, putting them back in the drawer. He wasn’t lying; the entire bottom of the drawer was covered in transparent orange plastic.

“I think we both noticed.” They voiced gently, leaning their head onto Spencer’s shoulder. Ryan remembered this. Hidden bottles, weird behavior; obvious signs all ignored because accepting it would mean admitting there’s a problem.

Brendon had a problem.


	11. Chapter 11

Ryan watched as Spencer paced back and forth in front of them. “Spin, come on, he’ll be home soon.” They tried to comfort, slightly afraid their friend would wear a hole in the ground.

Where they had years of experience dealing with painful situations head-on, Spencer’s always been the clean-up crew. He’s never had to deal with cleaning up someone’s secret shame like Ryan has. But if there was anyone who could put Brendon back together, it was Spencer.

“Soon isn’t now.” Spencer snapped. Immediately his face dropped. “Sorry, sorry, I’m not- I’m not mad at you.” He gave in and sat down next to Ryan on the couch. Wrapping their arm around his shoulders, they could feel how tight every one of his muscles was.

They pressed their thumb into the back of his neck. “I know you aren’t.” Ryan soothed. Spencer wasn’t mad at Brendon either, Ryan knew. He was mad at himself.

The front door opened and Brendon placed his bag on the table, the door closing gently behind him. He didn’t seem to notice them as his shoulders rounded forward, sighing deeply as he pressed the heels of his palms into his eyes. Everything about him screamed exhaustion. Ryan almost didn’t want to bother him.

Almost.

“Bren.” They called gently, not wanting to spook him. It didn’t work as Brendon jumped out of his skin. He turned around and, when spotting them and Spencer, immediately stood up straight. His hoodie seemed to be falling off of his shoulders and Ryan was sure it must have belonged to Spencer, but it was definitely Brendon’s favorite lavender zip-up. The circles under his eyes had gotten darker and Ryan silently cursed themself for missing all the signs.

“Didn’t notice you two.” His smile was strained. “Tom and Jon on their way over?” Brendon asked, cleaning up his things on the table.

Spencer stood up. He looked less ready to hit a wall than moments ago, but Ryan still wanted to hold him back. “Brendon.” Spencer’s hands raised as if to hug him, but seemed to think better of it. Hands stilled halfway in the air, it looked like he was trying to wrangle a wild animal. “Can we talk? We have to talk to you.”

Brendon’s eyes darted between the two of them before hesitantly nodding. He sat down beside Ryan, leaning into their side; Spencer took the window bench and sat on his hands.“I have to get read for dinner.” Brendon squirmed in his seat.

Ryan moved their arm behind Brendon’s back and pressed their thumb into the back of his neck. He seemed to loosen up slightly, so they rubbed tight circles into his skin. “Spencer was looking in your dresser earlier-“ They started, and immediately Brendon cut them off.

“What?” He sat up and immediately went ridged once again. His glare focused on Spencer and his face got red. “What the fuck were you doing in my dresser?” Defensive, Ryan noted.

“I asked him too.” Ryan immediately pulled blame off Spencer. The man in question looked like he may vomit on his lap. They took a deep breath. “You taking pills, Bren?”

If a pin dropped in the room next door, you could have heard it. Suddenly Brendon stood up from the couch. White-knuckled fists hung at his sides as his vision fixed on his shoes.. “There from my doctor I’m not a druggie.” He defended. “Now that I’m sufficently embarrassed can I go get ready now because Jon-“

“You’re seeing a doctor?” Spencer finally spoke up. Brendon’s gaze immediately shifted to Spencer, who was looking right back at him. “You’ve never mentioned a doctor.”

He shrugged. “I didn’t want to bother anyone.”

Spencer stood up and Brendon flinched. Ryan’s heart broke. “You’ve never been a problem, Brendon. Ever.” Spencer took one of Brendon’s hands in his own; working over his fingers until his fist relaxed. He rubbed Brendon’s fingers from tip to palm. “I know you feel like you have to handle everything yourself, but you don’t.”

Brendon nodded, but still didn’t say anything. “Why are you seeing a doctor, B?” Ryan asked gently. He didn’t answer. They stood up from the couch and wrapped their arms around Brendon’s waist. “What are the pills for?” They pushed, hooking their chin over Brendon’s shoulder.

The room fell silent again, but Ryan and Spencer waited patiently. Either after a minute or an hour, Ryan wasn’t sure, Brendon answered. “What aren’t they for?” He huffed a laugh, but it wasn’t funny. “ADHD, depression, anxiety.”

Ryan let Spencer take the lead. “You’ve always dealt with those things, you’ve never had a problem with it before.” He pointed out. “Why now? Why medicate now?”

Something in Brendon seemed to snap. He threw his arms in the air, breaking free of Ryan and Spencer’s comfort. “Because I’m tired of being the broken one!” He shouted, facing the two of them. “I’ve always been the friend who can’t sit still or the friend who can’t shut up of the friend who always has a problem and I’m tired of being the fuck up! I’m tired of having to rely on you two all the time!”

His eyes started to shine and Ryan could tell Spencer wanted to hold him. Apparently Brendon could too because he took a step back from the two of them. “I wanted Chicago to be different I wanted to not be the fucked-up repressed Mormon kid who couldn’t swear without thinking God was watching me or couldn’t sit for two minutes without tapping their fucking leg. But guess what? Nothing changed!” The tears were fully flowing. “I still feel like an unloveable burden! I still feel like a mistake!”

“Unloveable?” Spencer repeated, confused. “Brendon, you’re our family.” He stressed. “And you go on dates all the time. How could you possibly still believe you’re unloveable?”

Ryan understood. No matter what you do or how hard you try, childhood sticks with you.

“Dates?” Brendon scoffed. “I drink ’til I can’t feel my face and then I get fucked in the back of strangers cars, Spencer. I don’t date. I’m not-“ He laughed, loud and scary, but nothing was funny. “I’m not lovable! People don’t love me, people fuck me!”

They opened their mouth to speak, but Spencer beat them to it. “Bullshit! Bull. Shit.” He stepped up to Brendon until the back of his knees hit the tv stand. “My mother calls me to ask how her ‘favorite son’ is because you don’t call her anymore. Jon brought you juice boxes because he thought you needed cheering up. Ryan and I have been cooking tofurkey all day so that you wouldn’t feel left out and everyone’s more than happy to eat it because they love you, Brendon.” He poked Brendon’s chest. “I wait up, every night, hoping that maybe you won’t smell like tequila and jizz when you come home because I fucking miss you!” Spencer’s hands came up to cup his face, forcing him to look him in the eyes. Ryan suddenly felt like they were intruding.

Brendon squirmed against Spencer, but he didn’t relent. “Fuck anyone who made you feel like you needed to be fixed. Fuck your parents, fuck high school, fuck the fucking Latter-day Shitheads. You’re perfect.” Brendon’s hands wrapped around Spencer’s wrists. “I like my best friend who woke me up playing guitar at two am. I like my best friend who cheated off me in math class. It’s I like my best friend who wasn’t a fucking shell, Brendon, because that’s what you are right now. A shell.”

Ryan stepped in then, standing next to the two of them. “If you want to be on medication, we support you one-hundred-percent.” Spencer nodded in agreement. “But whatever you’re on now- the Paxil and the Adderall? It’s not working.” Brendon’s whole body started to shake.

“I don’t- I can’t-“ His voice broke in a sob, and Spencer pulled him into his arms. “I hate it.” He wept into Spencer’s shirt. His fingers dug into his arms biceps and Ryan thought it probably hurt, but Spencer didn’t flinch. “I feel so tired, all the time.” Ryan placed their hand on Brendon’s back and helped Spencer lead him to the couch. The three of them crashed down together, Spencer and Ryan pulling Brendon up into their laps. “I liked how I was.” Spencer rubbed his head against Brendon’s as Ryan covered Brendon’s body with their own.

“I loved how you were.” Spencer chimed in. Ryan’s eyes flicked up to see their best friend with red-stained cheeks. He pressed his nose into Brendon’s hair. “I love everything about you.”

Brendon laughed softly. “You’re just saying that because we share a room.”

Spencer’s jaw set and Ryan stilled. It was happening. Ryan thought they should leave, but to be honest they didn’t want to.

“No, I’m saying that because it’s true.” He shifted so Brendon’s head was on his chest. Bringing his hand up, he tilted Brendon’s chin so they were face to face. “I’m sorry I was mean before. Just, you stopped talking to me, and I thought maybe I was the problem-“

Brendon’s eyebrows knit together. “Spence, never.”

“-And then thought of you going on dates with people just made me. Upset.” He admitted.

Ryan couldn’t help but snort. “Putting it lightly.” Spencer shot them a look over Brendon’s head, and Ryan tried to hide their smile.

“I’ve been stupid.” Brendon admitted. “I always did like the whole protective-mama-bear thing you’ve got going on.” He smiled for the first time that night.

Ryan saw the out. If Spencer wanted to back out, this was his out.

He was all in. “Jealousy.” Spencer corrected him. “It’s not- I’m protective, yeah, but it’s. I’m jealous.”

Ryan was forced to sit up as Brendon pushed himself up to eye level with Spencer. He frowned, confused. “Jealous? Spencer, I’ve seen so many people hitting on you since day one of being here, there’s no way-“

“God, Brendon, I’m jealous because I’m not the one dating you.” It hung in the air between the three. Spencer looked like he may vomit or pass out. Or both.

Brendon blinked at his roommate. “No you’re not.” He rejected. “I’ve been flirting with you for years, you’re not into me.”

Spencer spluttered. “I- wha- you have not.” He declared.

“Yes I have!” Brendon exclaimed.

“You also believe in platonic kisses!” Spencer pointed out. “How was I supposed to know you liked me back!”

“Because I don’t look at Ryan the way I look at you!” He hissed. Spencer stared; frozen.

Ryan finally got their legs to work. Standing up from the couch, they grabbed their jacket and their bag. Neither boy said anything as they slipped on their shoes; they probably didn’t even notice Ryan leave. As the door closed behind them, they felt something shift in their chest. A lot of things still needed to be fixed, but this was a step. A good step.

Standing in the lobby of their building, they pulled out their phone and called the first number under ‘recents’.

“Hey,” Ryan greeted when the phone picked up after two rings. “Can I come over?”

-

“They’re probably fucking on the couch.” Jon giggled, loosening the buttons on his shirt as he flopped down on the couch against Ryan.

Ryan scrunched up their nose at the thought of their two best friends’ fucking on their sofa. “Please no.” Jon laughed. Like themself, Jon was dressed for dinner. He had taken off his suit jacket and toed off his nice shoes when Ryan had come in and told him everything. Now he was just in his slacks and button down blue shirt and Ryan made a mental note that Jon Walker cleaned up good.

“I texted Tom that tonight was cancelled, so he’s off playing music with some guys we grew up with.’” Jon informed, resting his head against Ryan’s stomach. He tipped his head back and looked up at Ryan. “You hungry? We have all the food we made for tonight and-“ He paused, pursing his lips. “Not much else, honestly.”

Ryan scratched his head. “Nah, I kinda lost my appetite.” Jon hummed in understanding before rolling over.

He braced himself up with his hands on either side of Ryan. He looked down at them. “Hey, you had the bad day. Let me be the one to play with you hair.” He offered.

Tired from the day’s events, Ryan didn’t even try to talk themself out of it. “Can we go lay down in the bed I assume you have but have never seen?” They asked hopefully. “I really just. I’m tired.”

As Jon stood up and offered them his hand, they couldn’t help but think about how Jon really was one of the most caring people they’d ever met. “You want to borrow something to sleep in?” He asked, looking down at Ryan’s tights and collared-yellow mod dress. “I don’t have anything, like, actual pajamas.” Jon apologized, leading Ryan by the hand to his room. “But I probably have a t-shirt long enough to be a night gown?”

Ryan tried not to think too hard about wearing nothing but Jon’s shirt and their underwear. “Yes please.” They hummed.

Jon opened a door before turning to Ryan. “Hold on, my lamp isn’t connected to the switch so let me-“ He darted into the pitch black room and Ryan heard him trip once before the lights came on. “Okay let me find you those clothes.”

Ryan walked into Jon’s room and closed the door behind them. Unlike Ryan’s room, Jon was on every inch of the walls. Posters for bands Ryan had never heard of, articles from old editions of the newspaper, school flags, concert tickets. Any surface that wasn’t already covered was filled by photos. Ryan recognized younger versions of Tom and Jon in some, but no one else looked familiar.

“Those are from a band Tom used to be in.” Jon informed, coming to stand next to them. He pointed at different faces in different photos. “It got kinda ugly and Tommy was pretty much fired, but Bill’s a good guy.” Ryan assumed the long-haired boy in the front of all the photos was said-Bill. Jon waved it off. “Bands, y’know?” They did know.

Ryan followed Jon as he pointed out all the photos; telling stories to go along with each one. On the table next to his bed, however, was the only framed one. It was of Jon and a woman with a big smile. She was taller than him, as she appeared to be jokingly crouching down to match his hight.

“That’s Vicky.” Jon pointed at the girl in the photo. “She’s one of my best friends. Transferred to NYU to study film a year and a half ago.”

Ryan turned around. Jon had what Ryan assumed was their pajamas in his hands, but his face was scrunched. “Have you seen her since?” They asked.

Jon shook his head. “No, but what can you do, ya know? Life happens. Here,” He offered Ryan an oversized blue t-shirt, sufficiently dropping the subject. “You know where the bathroom is if you want to change.“

Ryan shook their head. “I’m basically just changing dresses.” It wasn’t that simple. Ryan didn’t change in front of people. They didn’t need anyone seeing their body and thinking ‘boy’ just because of a flat chest and no hips. Jon wasn’t like that, though. Ryan trusted Jon quicker than they’d ever trusted anyone. They eased their arms out of their dress and pulled it over their head. Tossing it over Jon’s desk chair, they reached out their hand to Jon; wordlessly asking for the shirt.

His eyes widened and tossed the shirt at Ryan before quickly turning around. “You’re in you’re underwear!” Jon shrieked.

Ryan’s mouth twitched in an amused smile as they slipped off their bralette and tights. “Now I’m not.” They sing-songed. Jon gasped.

“Ryan Ross I am a gentleman!” He exclaimed, facing his closet. “Do not corrupt me!”

Ryan actually giggled as they pulled on what they’d realized was an old Cubs t-shirt. “I watched you put coffee in a bong once, you’re already corrupted.” Smirking down at the discarded lace, Ryan threw the fabric at the back of Jon’s head.

“What-“ Jon turned around and looked down at the floor. He picked up the green lace fabric, staring at it for a moment before screeching. “Ryan Ross!” He cried, dropping the fabric like it was on fire. “Cruel!” Ryan bust into a fit of giggles as Jon ranted about indecency.

Ryan liked Jon’s room. Ryan liked Jon. Stretching out on top of the bed, Ryan poked his thigh with their toes. “Stop being a prude and cuddle me.” They demanded. Jon grabbed their foot and tossed it onto the bed before moving to unbutton their pants. They swallowed; watching.

Ryan had rules; very clear rules. One of which was don’t fantasize about people you have to see every day. Bowie? Totally fine. Their eleventh grade French teacher? Off limits. By those rules, Jon was off limits. Except Ryan was spread out on his bed; in nothing but his shirt and their panties. He was looking down at them while he tugged his pants off and Ryan could not be blamed for wanting him to push them into the mattress.

They closed their eyes and thought of Spencer and Brendon fucking on the kitchen table.

“Are you sure you don’t want to come tomorrow?” Ryan opened their eyes to see Jon in his boxers and a white undershirt. His eyes looked almost…hopeful.

Ryan forced themself to shake their head. “I’m not a huge fan of willingly being around cis people.” They rejected, wiggling over just enough to allow Jon to lie down beside them. Jon clicked off his lamp before filling the space beside them. “It’s always just…me feeling out of place. Not knowing what I can and can’t say to everyone and anyone.” It definitely wasn’t a lie, but it wasn’t the whole truth either.

Dim light from the window filled the room and Ryan felt lucky they couldn’t fully make out the inevitable look of disappointment on Jon’s face. “I get that.” He mused, hooking an arm around Ryan’s waist and pulling them close. “I mean, I don’t. But I get what you mean.” They could feel his breath against their neck and leaned into it. Cheek-to-cheek, his beard scratched their skin.

Ryan’s fingers knotted into his side and tugged on his shirt. As if reading their mind, Jon rolled over so he was covering their body with his own. Both hands worked into his curls. They were getting longer than Ryan had ever seen them; in person and in the photos lining the walls. “I like your curls.” They accidentally said aloud and before they could take it back, Jon’s hand moved up to their own locks.

“I like yours too.” He complimented into the worn Cubs tee. “It’s all wavy. Frames your face.”

Ryan smiled. Jon’s photographer mind never shut off. “It’s still early.” They pointed out, sun still coming in through the curtains. “Should we watch a movie or something?” They suggested. Ryan didn’t particularly want to move from their current position, but that didn’t mean Jon had to stay.

“Hmm, no.” Jon decided rather quickly. He set his chin on Ryan’s breastbone, looking up at them through the curls that hung low in his eyes. “I’m thinking nap, weed, mac and cheese, and more nap. In that order.” Even in the dim light, Ryan could see his smile.

Ryan knew they shouldn’t spend the night. They hadn’t written anything noteworthy in weeks. Jon had to go visit his family in the morning. Hell, Ryan didn’t even know if Spencer and Brendon had even kissed and made up. For all they knew, they had torn each other’s heads off.

But Ryan was feeling selfish.

They tugged a worn quilt from the edge of the bed over the two of them. “Can you show me some more photos when you’re done dragging me into your lazy stoner ways?” They asked, wiggling deeper into the sheets. They smelled like sweat and cinnamon- a sent so very Jon. “I want to know more about your days as a Chicago scene king.”

Jon let out a thoughtful hum. It vibrated through his chest and made Ryan suddenly realize just how much the day had taken out of them. “Sounds like a plan.” He happily agreed. Ryan continued to drag their nails across his scalp as he continued to hum.

At the foot of the bed, Dylan jumped up. He padded his way up the bed, climbing lon top of the second pillow. Not even acknowledging Ryan’s presents in his home, he curled up and promptly fell asleep.

With both Dylan and Jon both purring, Ryan drifted off easily into their own cat nap.


	12. Chapter 12

Linda came back to the paper looking refreshed and efficiently prepared to kick ass. In fact, she was already at the paper when they and Jon made their way into the office. Jon must have known she was returning, as he had a coffee ready for her the second they walked through the door.

“We sold every issue of the paper.” Was her way of thanking him as she took the cup. She took a sip of the steaming coffee. “The school’s thrilled, so hopefully they won’t fucking bug me about how much ink we use anymore.”

Jon tossed his bag onto the floor and Ryan rolled their eyes before placing it on an actual table. “How was Sarah?” He asked, sitting himself on the edge of her desk. Ryan pulled up an actual chair, happy to hear about someone’s life besides their own.

Linda blushed and Ryan learned she was capable of feelings embarrassment. “She was lovely.” They blush faded as quickly as it arrived. “I came back Friday morning, had a meeting at the center I couldn’t miss. Sarah didn’t mind.” Ryan detected an unspoken ‘of course’ at the end of her sentence.

“Center?” Ryan asked curiously. Linda had mentioned other clubs she did work with, but she’d never mentioned a center. To be fair to her, she didn’t talk about her personal life at the paper. She mainly screamed about font size.

“Center on Halsted.” Linda informed, turning away from Jon. “It’s Chicago’s LGBT center. I do a lot of work with Chicago’s LGBT community.” She puffed her chest with pride they’d never seen her with when talking about the paper. “My friend is the director of trans relations. We met through a trans info panel at the club, cause they used to go here.” She made a note on her pad and stuck it to her computer. “Now we run events here at the school together.” Now Ryan knew why she always looked so tired. Linda really was trying to help as many people as possible. “It’s a great place. There’s so many resources our school just doesn’t have the funds to supply. Support groups, group therapy, even just basic information.”

Ryan knew that Chicago had a wide and vast queer community. However, they had yet to discover any of it. They could guess that Brendon had at least found the kink side of it. Ryan considered taking Brendon down to the Center to check out some of those groups. Or at least, introducing Linda and Brendon. Although, Ryan thought, once he got back to his old self she might kill him.

“Linda’s like a superhero.” Jon pulled them out of their thoughts, hopping off her desk. “We should get you a cape.” He mimed flying through the air and Linda threw her pen at him. He blew her a kiss before exiting the conversation; doing some work before she stabbed him.

“Why do you put up with him?” Linda asked, and it took a moment for Ryan to realize she was talking to them.

Ryan looked over at Jon. He was sitting with his laptop across his knees, scrolling through photos he’d taken during his time with his family. Their mouth twitched. “Free coffee.”

 

-

Like Linda, Spencer didn’t allow for any downtime after Thanksgiving. Finding the doctor’s number in Brendon’s phone, he had made the appointment before Brendon could argue. “You need to get off this shit sooner rather than later.” He’d grumbled, and Brendon didn’t even argue about the clear invasion of privacy. Instead, he brushed the hair from Spencer’s eyes and kissed his forehead.

“I’m happy I didn’t scare you off, Spencer Smith.” Brendon cooed as he pressed a kiss to Spencer’s jaw. Spencer lazily shoved him off, but Ryan could tell he was happy.

While the two were away at the doctor, Ryan shut themself in their room with Brendon’s old radio. They pressed play, and the music picked up in the middle of a Killers song. Music filled the empty spaces as Ryan sat down at their desk. Noticing a loose smoke mixed in their pencil cup, they pulled it shamelessly. In the back of their mind, they realized they’d been smoking too much. Lighting it up anyways, Ryan set the stick between their lips and opened their desk draw. They grabbed the Colorado card before they could change their mind. Pulling an actual pen from the cup, they turned the card over.

_“Dad,_

_Spencer’s currently at the doctor with Brendon. He was taking pills to try and fix himself. We’re going to help him get clean._

_Needing help isn’t for pussies._

_-Ryan”_

Ryan finished off the small message by adding their childhood address. They turned the card over in their hands before tossing it aside. It slid across the old wood and wedged itself under a teacup. Ash fluttered down into their computer keys and Ryan rolled their eyes before tapping the cigarette out into the same cup.

Their pocket vibrated. Assuming it was Spencer, Ryan picked up the phone before reading the screen. “Can you bring me home new smokes? I’m currently on my last one and it tastes like pencil shavings.”

_“You taste a lot of pencil shavings, Ross?”_

Ryan sat up straight in their chair, as if Jon could see them being lazy in their pajamas writing letters to their estranged father. “Sorry I- I thought you were Spencer…and sometimes.” Jon’s laughter filled their ear. “Did you call me to laugh at me?” They asked, blowing smoke away from the receiver.

_“No I called to see if you wanted grilled cheese.”_

They pulled the phone away from their ear and blinked at it. When Ryan met Brendon three years ago, they swore he would be the oddest man they ever met. In the last four months, Jon Walker has given him a run for his money. “Are you high?”

_“No. Do you wanna be? I can have a pipe ready for when you get here. Or I can bring cheese and weed to you-“_

“Jon.” Ryan cut him off. “Did you actually call me to offer me food?” Jon may have been the reason Ryan remembered to eat a lot of the time, but this was. Off. Jon Walker wasn’t the kind of guy to insist things.

_“Figured maybe you wanted a friend today. I went grocery shopping today and that’s the first excuse I thought of.”_

Their stomach tightened. Logically, they knew they couldn’t keep doing this. Ryan couldn’t continue to treat Jon like Spencer and Brendon when Jon wasn’t like Spencer and Brendon. When Ryan didn’t feel about him they way they felt about Spencer and Brendon. It felt like they were taking advantage of his kindness with their unspoken feelings.

Emotionally, however.

“I’ll be there in twenty, I need to get smokes first.”

-

“Jon Walker if I could fuck this grilled cheese I would.” Ryan moaned. Jon giggled around his pipe before taking a hit. He tipped his head back as he blew his smoke into the air, and Ryan’s eyes fixated on the column of his throat. The veins under his skin tensed as he breathed. Slowly, he looked back at Ryan and smiled, lazily and happily.

“That’s the best compliment I’ve ever gotten on my food.” Jon giggled, sliding the pipe and his lighter across the table. Dylan brushed up against Jon’s bare calves and his giggles turned into a fit. Ryan watched with a fond smile as Jon bent over and plopped the cat into his lap. “Dylan, you lovely boy.” He cooed, rubbing his cheek into Dylan’s fur.

Ryan took a long drag from Jon’s pipe. The smoke sat in their lungs until it became the reason their thoughts went swimming. As they exhaled, Jon kicked his feet up into their lap under the table. They raised their eyebrow as Jon wiggled his toes. “You doing okay?” He inquired, suddenly looking very sober.

“Yes.” They lied immediately. Ryan wouldn’t make Jon into a therapist just because they were friends; he didn’t have to deal with their unsorted brain. “Why wouldn’t I be?” A question Ryan themself wasn’t sure of. Spencer’s attitude had done a complete one-eighty since he and Brendon started…whatever they were doing. Brendon wasn’t much for labels, so Ryan didn’t know to call them boyfriends or what. Spencer’s maybe-sort of-boyfriend in question was slowly but surely making his way out of the hole he’d dug. He was starting to go back to his smiling, joking, affectionate self and it had lifted a weight off of everyone’s shoulders.

Everyone was happy. Why wasn’t Ryan?

Jon cradled Dylan in his arms like a baby. “Just because good things are happening doesn’t mean bad things can’t also be happening.” He shrugged, rocking the cat back and forth. Ryan watched him as he leaned down and pressed his nose to the cat’s, and their heart pulled. “It’s okay to be sad, right Dyl?”

Ryan pulled out their new pack and lit a cigarette with John’s lighter. As they inhaled, they thought about the postcard they had to mail to their father and get no reply too because they refused to give him their address. They thought about how Spencer and Brendon were finally getting together while Ryan sometimes still thought they annoyed Jon. They thought about how sometimes they wanted to tear at their own body until a pile of bones was all that remained.

Opening up to Jon wasn’t an option in Ryan’s mind. He’d known them only four months; as far as Ryan knew he could change his mind tomorrow and never speak to them again. Although, really, they knew he wouldn’t. Jon was…different.

Ryan exhaled. “You ever feel like everything’s going right for everyone but you?” They asked, tapping their cigarette out onto the table. A rude gesture, usually, but they knew Jon wouldn’t care.

Jon mused for a moment. “I’m the youngest child, all my siblings are successful and in relationships. My best friend and roommate never went to college and has a successful career doing what I’m spending thousands to get a degree in.” He blew a raspberry before running his fingers through his hair. “Yeah, I do. But,” He added, setting the cat down on the floor. Leaning across the table, he took Ryan’s cigarette from between their fingers. “I’m getting there, you know?” Jon took a drag off Ryan’s cigarette and playfully blew the smoke in their face.

Ryan shoved his feet off their lap. “Ass.” They took the cigarette back and placed it between their own lips; mulling over what he’d said. Of course Ryan was getting there. But Jon wasn’t trans, he had a good family. He couldn’t understand, and they were happy he never would. “I just. It’s not that I’m doubting your friendship or anything-“

“I certainly hope not considering I made you grilled cheese-“

“But it’s just…it’s hard to talk about stuff with people you don’t understand, you know?” They nervously tugged at their hair. “Not that I’m like, comparing trauma or anything, but it’s. Difficult.” Not that they’d ever tried, if they were being honest. Ryan could talk to Spencer about gender and with Brendon about family. And they definitely couldn’t talk to Jon about Jon.

“I could always try.” He offered. “Even if you just need a guy to agree with you and tell you your life IS bullshit and you’re not being overdramatic, I’m totally your guy.” Jon was so genuine it hurt sometimes. For a second, Ryan wanted to tell him everything. Tell him they were sending postcards to their alcoholic father. Tell him they were considering estrogen a lot those days. Tell him they wanted to know what it was like to feel his mouth on their skin.

Instead, they snubbed their cigarette against the bottom of their shoe and left the butt on their empty plate. Ryan got up from the table and walked over to Jon. Without looking him in the eyes, they stepped behind him and wrapped their arms around his neck. “You’re my guy, Jon Walker.” They breathed into his hear, finding comfort in his cinnamon smell.

Jon reached his hand up and pet the top of Ryan’s head. “Of course I am.” He promised and, internally, Ryan promised they’d try. For him, they’d try. “Do you wanna watch Star Wars? Tom just bought episodes three through five on DVD.”

Ryan’s hands slid up to Jon’s shoulders, shaking him gently. “How dare you not start with that?” They exclaimed. Jon’s laughter followed behind them as Ryan moved to stretch across the couch.

“I’m sorry I didn’t know you were a dork.” Jon teased, crouching in front of the dvd player to put in the disc. “Any other dark, dirty secrets, Ross?” He tossed the remote onto Ryan’s stomach before lying down across their legs. Ryan tried not to take him seriously as he rested his ear against the hem of their sweater.

“I’m a sucker for fantasy. Especially sci-fi fantasy.” Ryan stage whispered as they took the remote from their belly and pressed play. They let the remote slip from their fingers onto the floor before filling their empty palm with Jon’s curls. The yellow scrawl lit up the room.

“Dragons and lasers, Ry?” Jon inquired, his voice a gentle hum atop their body. “That’s a good secret.” He nodded into Ryan’s hand. “Don’t worry, I won’t tell anyone you want a space prince to sweep you off your feet.” Jon promised as R2 beeped onscreen.

Ryan laughed softly. “What can I say, I’m a sucker for scruffy-looking nerf herders.” Jon laughed with them, beard scratching against their palm. Darth Vader appeared on the television and Jon proceeded to hum the Imperial March.

This was good, Ryan thought. This is how friends are.


	13. Chapter 13

Brendon’s doctor had him on a schedule to wean him off his pills. Brendon had a habit of doing things drastically, but cutting out Paxil and Adderall cold turkey had so many risks that even he wouldn’t do it. But even his good decision didn’t come without repercussions. His body didn’t know what the fuck was going on. Suddenly he was sitting in dark rooms downing aspirin like it was candy; dealing with headaches that sometimes drove him to tears. Some days he ate of everyone else’s plates and some days he couldn’t even touch his own. First semester finals were quickly approaching and Brendon no longer had the ability to study.

Ryan and Spencer were with him every step of the way. Ryan no longer had to force Brendon to take naps, he was the one pulling them to bed to sleep. They would stay with him as long as he needed; petting his hair and holding him close to make sure he stayed asleep. It was like his body was trying to catch up on all the sleep it hadn’t received since moving to Chicago. Complaining about his constant exhaustion never even occurred to them. Ryan hadn’t realized just how much they’d missed Brendon’s kisses until he gave them one every time he woke up in Ryan’s bed.

Spencer had gotten quite good at cooking over his months of spite-making dinner. When Brendon did actually speak up and tell them he was hungry Spencer would cook him anything, no mater what time of day it was. On more than one occasion Ryan had woken up in the middle of the night to find Spencer making pancakes as Brendon stood behind him, his entire body flush to Spencer’s back. They never noticed they were there and that honestly made Ryan happy. After all those years, they’d finally found each other. Ryan expected to be jealous, but they were too happy for them to care.

Even Jon was along for the ride. When Brendon went from joking with him to picking fights in the blink of an eye, Jon’s support never faltered. He even went as far as coming over after shifts to watch movies and play guitar with Brendon so Ryan and Spencer could make sure all their studying got done. The sounds of Jon’s soft singing was something Ryan was sure they’d never tire of.

All the while, Ryan was trying their best not to think about Jon as more than a friend. As they watched Jon help Brendon with all these obstacles, no questions asked, it got harder and harder. Jon was just so…Jon. Ryan had told him the bare minimum; Brendon had been dealing with mental illness and his sexuality and was finally getting help from a doctor.

“Does he have a therapist?” Jon asked Ryan one night as Brendon hung off Spencer in the kitchen. Ryan shook their head. The doctor had explicitly told Spencer that he needed one, but they’d been so busy working about his withdrawals that none of them had the time to find one. “You should talk to Linda.” He suggested with a point. “She’s got that friend who does work with like, group therapy and stuff at the LGBT center, remember?”

With everything going on, it had completely slipped Ryan’s mind. “I just worry how Brendon would work in therapy, let alone group therapy.” They confided. Brendon wasn’t much of a complainer and to him, that’s what talking about his feelings felt like. Complaining. And him doing it to a group? Ryan was skeptical.

Jon shrugged, leaning back into the couch. “Talk to Linda. You know her, if anything she’d love to make an organized list of ways she could help Bren.” He giggled at the thought, setting his hand on Ryan’s lower back. “It’s not betraying his trust to get him help, Ry.” The hand on his back moved in circles through their button-up. “I could introduce them if you wanted. I do know Linda more than you.” Jon pointed out.

Ryan leaned back into Jon with a thoughtful hum. Linda would definitely get along with Brendon better than some therapist in a stark white office with generic art framed on the walls. They could see it now; Brendon would drive a woman with a clipboard and a pant suit up a wall. “I’ll talk to her Wednesday. See if she can help set something up for when Christmas is done.”

Christmas was something Ryan was trying to avoid thinking about more than anything. The thought of going back to Nevada, of spending weeks with the Smiths, it wasn’t as comforting as it used to be. So much had changed since the three of them left home that they weren’t even sure if Nevada was even home anymore. They definitely weren’t the same people.

A smaller part of their brain pointed out that maybe it was because Jon wouldn’t be coming with them. His family was in Chicago; his idea of going home for Christmas was moving from the city to the suburbs. Ryan could imagine a whole clan of Walkers in matching Christmas sweaters posing for a family photo in front of a twinkling tree. Picturesque in a way the Smiths didn’t even bother trying to be.

“Christmas.” Jon exclaimed, pulling them from their thoughts. “You three probably aren’t staying in the city, are you?” It was more of a statement than a question, but Ryan still shook their head no. “Makes sense, your families are all back in Vegas.”

Ryan felt queasy as the simplicity of the words. Little did Jon know that nothing about their family lives were simple. Ryan hadn’t told him about Brendon being kicked out, but Ryan had a feeling Jon already knew. However Jon was still completely in the dark about Ryan’s family situation.

“Family.” Ryan corrected simply. They kept their face straight and voice even as Jon looked down at them. “Just the Smiths.” It wasn’t saying much, but they hoped it was enough for him to understand.

Somehow, Jon always understood. “Must be one hell of a bunch to put up with all three of you.” He joked, fingers perfectly lining up with their ribs.

“Spencer’s got twin younger sisters, too.” Ryan mentioned, and Jon whistled.

“Mrs. Smith has the patience of a saint.” Jon concluded. Ryan hummed in agreement; Jon didn’t know the half of it.

Spencer joined them in the living room with Brendon trailing behind with a bowl of Skittles. “You’ve got the whole couch, Jon, you don’t have to sit on Ryan.” Spencer teased, pulling a blanket off the back of the couch and laying it down on the floor. Brendon didn’t add in quips of his own, too busy picking candies out by color and eating them one by one. Spencer sat on the ground with his back resting on the couch and Brendon followed him down between his legs chest-to-back. “Their breakable, be careful.”

Ryan smacked the back of Spencer’s head and Brendon made an unhappy sound. He was having one of his quiet days. Luckily they weren’t common, but they did happen. Brendon was glued to Spencer on those days. “Shut up and put on Rudolph.” Ryan instructed. Brendon was dedicated to making sure they watched a Christmas movie every night leading up to the holiday and now that they were all knee-deep in final studies, it was a welcome break.

The four of them settled in as the claymation began. Ryan wanted to make a joke about Spencer and Brendon already being an old married couple, but when they looked down at Jon he was mouthing along with the film. So Ryan shut their mouth and enjoyed the domesticity.

-

When Ryan went up to Linda in the news office the following Wednesday, she looked like she was ready to light her files on fire.

“If I ask you for a favor, are you going to light me on fire with your eyes?” They asked as they pulled up a chair.

Linda took a deep breath and closed her notebook. “Actually, you’d be a welcome distraction.” She exhaled. “What’s the favor? Need me to hide Walker’s body?”

“No, but I’ll keep that in mind.” They smiled. “I was wondering if you knew anyone at the LGBT center who could help out my friend? I know they have group therapy sessions and stuff, but he’s not the kind of guy to open up to a group of strangers, y’know?” Ryan picked at the side of their thumb. “And I don’t think locking him in a room for an hour a week with a therapist would work either. He’s kinda having a longterm sexuality-slash-religion crisis.”

 

Linda’s lips pursed. Ryan knew that look; it was the same one she got when planning layouts and special issues. After a moment, she grabber her notepad and a pen. “I’ll give you the number for my friend who works at the center.” She informed, writing information across the paper. “Their name’s Dallon. I think…I think they could help a lot with what Brendon’s going through.” Linda tore off the paper and handed it over to Ryan.

_“Dallon Weekes_

_312-555-9987_

_they/them pronouns”_

Looking back up at Linda, Ryan felt another pound lifted from their shoulders. “Linda when you eventually run for president, you get my vote.”

She beamed. “Just wait until you hear my stance on infrastructure and technology.”

-

Ryan didn’t give Brendon their number right away. If they were being honest, they still stepped on eggshells when it came to Brendon’s personal boundaries. He was raised to have a very specific belief of what friendship was, and everything else was charity. Plus, with his detoxing and his studies, Ryan didn’t want to add on to his stress.

So they sat on the number until after finals.

The three pseudo-Smiths had a handful of days between their final tests and their flight back to Las Vegas. Spencer and Brendon spent their time seemingly getting as much fucking out of the way as possible before they had to be respectable around family. So when Brendon finally emerged from their room one night, sex hair and Spencer’s boxer’s low on his hips, Ryan saw their window.

“B.” Ryan caught his attention where they laid stretched across the couch. He jumped slightly, catching his underwear as it slipped an inch lower. “Can we talk?” They asked, tossing their book onto the coffee table.

Brendon gave them a sleepy smile. “Ryan Ross I’d love that.” He hummed. Brendon covered Ryan’s body with their own, nuzzling his cheek into their hoodie. Ryan’s hand rested on his lower back and rubbed their fingers into the dimples just above the waistline. “Whatcha wanna talk about?”

Now or never, Ryan thought. “So, my friend Linda-“

“The one you and Jonny are straight for?”

“She’s a lesbian and neither of us are attracted to her.” Ryan corrected him. “But yeah. She does a lot of work with this huge LGBT center in Chicago.” As they continued talking, Brendon’s head slowly rose to look at them face on. “She has a friend who works there who works with like, these group therapy sessions for LGBT. Like, different topics and stuff.” Brendon’s blank stare still hadn’t changed, and Ryan rambled. “I told her you wouldn’t be into the group sessions so she told me to give you her friend Dallon’s number and said that you two would get along well and they could probably help you with like. Your problems.”

They took a deep breath and waited.

Brendon lowered his cheek back to their chest. This time, his fingers wiggled their way under their shirt; cool digits pressing into warm skin. “Your kind of the best friend a guy could ever want, Ryan Ross.” He mused, softly kneading the skin under his fingertips. Like how Dylan sometimes did to their chest when they wore scarves.

There went another pound. “I thought Spencer was your best friend.” Ryan questioned.

“He’s my boyfriend now, he can’t have two titles.” Brendon gently bumped his head to their chin. “You’re totally my best friend now.”

Ryan thought about the weight of titles. How Spencer had always had always fit the position of ‘brother’ in their mind and how Jon never just fit the title of ‘friend’. “You’re my best friend too.” They leaned down and kissed the top of his head, nails dragging up and down his spine. “Is Spencer going to be mad I took his bed buddy?”

He yawned. “No.” Brendon’s blinks became longer and longer. “He’s been asleep for a while. I was just,” He smacked his lips. “watching him sleep.”

Ryan couldn’t even find it in themself to make fun. If they were being honest, it was sweet. “Good.” They pulled the old quilt off the back of the couch, spreading it over Brendon’s goosebumped body. “Sleep.”

Brendon made a happy sound. The two closed their eyes, city sounds a calming familiarity. “Ry?” He broke the silence.

Ryan cracked open eyes that they didn’t realize were closed. “Yes, honey?”

Brendon crawled up the couch until he was hovering over Ryan. Browns eyes met; open, honest. Brushing his nose to Ryan’s, Brendon met them with a slow, lazy kiss. Ryan’s mouth parted slightly, giving Brendon the kiss they know he deserved. His lips were littered with tiny scabs from nervous knawing.

It felt like home

Brendon pulled back enough to divide their lips and keep every other inch of them together. “I’ve missed you.” He whispered, finally letting the words escape.

Ryan moved their hands up his back; wrapping them around his chest and pulling Brendon flush against them. As if on instinct, Brendon tucked his face into the hollow of Ryan’s shoulder.

“I’ve missed you too.” Ryan assured him, holding him until warm breath evened out against their skin. “I’ve missed you too.”


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so when i started posting this fic, i had ten chapters done and was knocking out a chapter every two or three days. unfortunately, i havent written anything for this fic in months. its not that i have writers block! i have the entire plot to tsats and the entire plot to book two written out! depression and life are just mean and messy.
> 
> tl;dr - this fic will no longer update weekly, but please be excited.

The night before their flight back to Vegas found Spencer having a minor breakdown. Ryan laid back against Brendon’s bed with the owner in question between their legs. They ran their fingers through his hair as he watched his boyfriend lose his mind.

“Bren, where did you put my jacket?” Spencer demanded. Brendon didn’t bat an eye, put pointed to his half of the closet. His boyfriend reached in and pulled out his jacket; throwing it on the floor before following it.

Spencer was a very organized person. If there was a trip to be had, he was packed a week beforehand with a full itinerary printed out and color-coded. But this time around Spencer was so preoccupied making sure Brendon was all ready to go back to Nevada that his own organization fell to the wayside.

“Okay, but where are my shoes?!” Spencer shouted from where he’d half crawled under his bed. Though Ryan had a feeling it hadn’t been touched in a while.

“Which one, babe?” Brendon replied calmly. He grabbed one of Ryan’s hands and traced the lines on their palm.

His head popped out and Ryan thought of Caddyshack. “The Magli oxfords with the ombre tip.” Spencer rolled off his tongue.

Before Ryan could even ask what the fuck he meant, Brendon replied. “They’re by the front door.” He informed without even looking up. “Can we get pizza?” Brendon asked Ryan as Spencer left the room, passing Brendon’s packed suitcase as he went. “With peppers on it. Ooo, and extra cheese.”

Spencer came back in a moment later with a pair of shoes in hand. He ducked down over Ryan and gave Brendon a kiss. “I’ll even get you garlic bread.” He smiled and Brendon beamed back. Brendon had finally started eating like he used to, and after months of watching him forget to eat and constantly pull his pants up? Ryan and Spencer were happy to buy him whatever food he wanted.

“Please stop kissing on top of me.” Ryan deadpanned, wiggling out from under them. “I’ll go order pizza.” They informed, but it fell on deaf ears and Spencer crawled on top of Brendon.

Ryan curled up on the couch, left alone to their thoughts as they waited for dinner to arrive. The radio in the corner did nothing to silence their mind as it quietly played a local Christmas channel. The holidays were always a tough time for Ryan. Sure, the Smiths always did everything they could to include Ryan in their celebrations. Presents under the tree, a setting for them at the table; they made sure they knew Ryan was part of the family.

But it didn’t erase memories of all the Christmases that came before. Sitting under a tree with a dog and their mother and their father; happy, smiling. A little older with a very similar scene, but with one person missing. Holidays passing year after year and their father looking more and more worn. Ryan remembered the first Christmas where their father didn’t even bother to leave his room, only to find out later that he didn’t even know what day it was. Eventually the holiday stopped all together and if they were being honest, it was probably for the best. But that didn’t mean it didn’t still hurt.

The buzzer pulled Ryan from their mind. They got off the couch, Wham! playing on the radio as they buzzed the delivery man in. “Food’s here, stop fucking!” Ryan shouted down the hall.

“We aren’t!” Brendon called back. Ryan rolled their eyes; they could hear Spencer asking where his pants went.

A knock rang off the door and Ryan grabbed their wallet. Opening the door, they jumped; wallet flying out of their hands.

“You’re not pizza.” Ryan pouted.

Jon bent down, backpack slipping slightly, and picked up Ryan’s wallet. “Should I be?” He asked, handing over the belonging. Ryan shook their head and stepped aside. Jon followed them in and before the door was even closed, he had his arms around Ryan’s waist. “Merry Christmas!” He cheered, swaying back and forth.

Ryan couldn’t help but laugh; patting Jon’s hand where it help their elbow. “Merry Christmas to you too, Walker.”

“You’re not pizza.” Brendon pouted as he joined the two in the living room, Spencer trailing behind. Ryan pushed themself out of Jon’s arms only for Brendon to replace them. “Merry Christmas Jon Walker.” He hummed, squishing Jon around the middle.

Spencer must have felt the same as Ryan, because he quickly came up behind Brendon and grabbed his shoulder. “Come help me pack toiletries.” He demanded. Ryan wanted to roll their eyes at the lack of subtlety, but Brendon didn’t seem to blink an eye.

“‘kay.” He hummed, patting Jon’s cheek before wrapping himself around Spencer. “Call me when there’s pizza please.” Was shouted down the hall before the bathroom door slammed shut.

Ryan turned to Jon. “They’re going to fuck in the bathtub.” They sighed. Jon followed them to the couch, stopping to switch the radio to the college channel.

“How does that work?” He inquired, ditching his bag on the ground before tucking himself under the discarded blanket. “Do you think Spencer, like, bends him over the tub-“

“Stop stop stop.” Ryan waved their hands wildly. “All I want to know about Spencer Smith is that his favorite Ninja Turtle is Donatello I don’t need to know his sex positions!” They shrieked. Although the thin walls of their apartment left Ryan knowing a lot more than they wanted to. A lot more.

“Well then I guess you get your present first then.” He beamed, and Ryan’s stomach sank. Jon had never mentioned presents or cards, and Ryan was so grateful. They’d just started being okay with Ginger giving them one or two things for Christmas; a present from Jon was too much.

“I didn’t get you anything.” They blurted out, feeling their face heat up once the words escaped. But Jon waved a hand lazily.

“Didn’t want you too.” He shrugged as he reached into his backpack and pulled out a box. A shoebox, Ryan noted. He handed it to Ryan with a small smile. “Merry Christmas, Ry.”

Ryan looked down at the box. “Where did you even get this? You don’t own shoes.” They deflected.

“I know people who own shoes.” Jon countered. “I was going to give it to you earlier, but got caught up shopping for the nieces with my mother.” His thigh pressed to Ryan’s. “Sorry I invited myself over, I wanted to make sure you got it before you left.”

They took the old shoebox with unstable fingers; eyes grazing over the label in the corner of the lid. _“To Ryan, Love Jon”_ written in Jon’s barely-legible barista scroll. Popping the top off, Ryan stared down at the equipment that seemed to stare back at them.

“It’s a Polaroid 600.” Jon informed. “And don’t think it’s a big deal or anything, because I had two and I wanted you to have one.”

Ryan stared down at Jon’s camera. He made it sound like it was nothing; almost as if they were doing Jon a favor by taking it off his hands. But it was such a…personal gift. Jon talked about film like it was a lover, not like another way to share a memory. “Why?” They asked, looking back at Jon.

For the first time since Ryan met him that August afternoon, Jon blushed. It made him somehow look happier, in a rosy-cheeked Christmas kind of way. “I thought it would be nice to have physical copies of all the things you like about your hometown.” Jon admitted. “That way, you can bring them back here and remember all the good things you have to go back to, when you do have to go back to them.”

Ryan wanted to give it back; to tell Jon they really didn’t have much to go back to. Shout at the top of their lungs that their past wasn’t worth hanging up on the refrigerator or framing on the walls. “Jon…”

“Even if there isn’t much, I want you to find what there is and photograph it.” He took the camera out of the box and loaded the film. Ryan watched his hands move; a note for when they had to do it themself later. “And don’t shake them. André Three-Thousand was full of shit.” Jon grinned, handing Ryan the old camera.

They felt the weight in their hands; slipping their fingers through the holder on the side. The buzzer next to the front door went off and Ryan shook their head. “Now that’s definitely the pizza guy.” They said more to themself than Jon. Standing up off the couch they walked over to the door and buzzed their dinner inside.

On the couch, Jon was looking down at his phone. Before Ryan could question themself, they held the view to their eye and pressed the button. Ryan carefully took the photo from the camera as it developed and set both down on the table. Slowly, Jon was fading into the picture. A smile spread on their face as they took in his curls; his scruff and his flannel. A knock rang off the front door and Ryan thanked the underpaid man with a genuine smile. Turning to put the boxes in the kitchen, they heard the swish of jeans follow them into the room.

“What was that about?” Jon asked with a smirk. They ducked their head inside the refrigerator, definitely looking for drinks and not hiding the blush on their face.

Ryan pulled out sodas and shrugged. “Practice.” They lied quickly. “You want to stay for dinner?”

Jon walked across the kitchen until Ryan was backed into the counter. He leaned in and they froze as he reached around them and grabbed a can of Coke. “I’d love to.” He agree, the crack of the opening can pulling Ryan from places their mind did not want to wander with Jon that close.

“Great.” They rushed out, pushing past Jon to Spencer and Brendon’s room. “Cheese is on the bottom, Brendon’s pepper disaster on top.” Ryan called over their shoulder as they pushed open the door and promptly shut it behind. They flicked on the light, and immediately regretted it. “Please put on your pants Jon Walker is in our kitchen.”

Brendon crawled out from under the sheets and sat on the edge of the bed, not following Ryan’s one request. “Do you think he likes peppers on his pizza?” He asked curiously.

Ryan glared at Spencer only to see him look just as exasperated by the actions of his boyfriend as Ryan was. “Put on some fucking pants and go ask him.”

-

Ryan sat staring at the window on the drive back from the airport. For some reason, they had expected things to look different. Like moving would maybe give them a different perspective on the desert they’d grown up in. But it all looked the same. The strip malls, the stucco homes with their ceramic tiles, the drunks at bus stops.

“You three must be tired from your flight.” Ginger commented as she pulled onto the same street she’d lived on their whole lives. “Want to take a nap and then we can get something to eat?” She offered.

“Please.” Spencer sighed from his place in the front seat. After Jon had his share of Brendon’s pepper disaster and went home, Spencer stayed up until late in the night making lists and organizing his luggage. Eventually Brendon managed to drag him to bed, but Ryan had a feeling it wasn’t until the sun was rising.

When they pulled into the garage, Ryan lifted their head from the window. Like everything else, it remained unchanged. Ginger turned off the engine, and they all got out to pull their bags from the trunk.

“I’m so tired.” Brendon whined as he hooked his chin over Ryan’s shoulder. “Ry, will-”

“I’m not carrying your luggage.” They cut him off.

Spencer met them at the trunk and sighed. “You’re a toddler.” But he took Brendon’s suitcase along with his own anyways. Ryan couldn’t help but roll their eyes as they hefted their own luggage to the ground. As the two lovers went into the house, Ryan looked back over their shoulder; quietly missing the second car that used to live in the driveway.

No one but Ginger was home, as Christmas break started much later for grad students than it did for college ones. Spencer quickly made his way up the stairs with both suitcases in his arms. Brendon gave Mrs. Smith a kiss on the cheek before quickly following after him. Subtly was never Brendon’s forte.

Ginger handed Ryan a glass of water from the kitchen before kissing the top of their head. “Go get some rest, kiddo.” She smiled at them, and Ryan wondered when they got taller than her.

Ryan copied Brendon’s action before carefully making their way down the stairs to the basement with a glass in one hand and a suitcase in the other.

Dropping the luggage by the bottom of the stairs, they looked around the room. Since they’d left Ginger got a new bed for the basement. Ryan wasn’t sure if they were happy the place they once called a bedroom was different or not. They decided not to put much thought into it as they stripped down to their underthings and crawled under the new sheets. The mattress was harder than their own and Ryan had a feeling Ginger had only purchased it for when Ryan visited it.

Quickly, Ryan got out of bed and opened their suitcase. Pushing all their clothes out of the way, Ryan grabbed Jon’s- their camera and popped the top. Turning around, they took a picture of their new Vegas bedroom. Walking over to the new vanity, Ryan left the equipment on the table before flicking off the light by the stairs and crawling back into bed.

Their eyes weren’t closed five minutes before the stairs creaked. Cracking open one eye, Ryan watched as an outline of a person tip-toed around to the other side of the bed. They lifted the covers and crawled over to curl up against Ryan’s back. Cold toes wiggled between their calves.

Ryan flipped over. “Brendon.” They mumbled as he wrapped his arm around Ryan’s waist. “What’re you doing?”

“Sleepin’.” He mumbled into the crook of Ryan’s neck. “Did I wake you up?”

“I meant why aren’t you sleeping with Spencer.” Ryan rolled their eyes in the dark.

“Because you’re my napping buddy.” Brendon yawned into their neck. “Also Spencer said doing sexy stuff in his childhood bedroom would be weird. But mostly the napping thing.”

Ryan was too tired to ask why that meant he wasn’t sleeping in Spencer’s bed. Instead, they kissed Brendon’s head and closed their eyes; the sound of Brendon’s breathing lulling them to sleep.


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> short chapter? me? likely

It didn’t take Ginger twenty-four hours to pick up on Spencer-and-Brendon. As Brendon sat down across from Spencer at the dinner table their first night home, Ginger informed Spencer that “the no-footsie-with-boyfriends-at-the-dinner-table rule doesn’t just apply to the twins, Spencer James.” Ryan almost cried laughing at how red the two got, but then Ginger asked to be passed the mashed potatoes and that was the end of it.

Ultimately, it was a very uneventful return.

In the days leading up to Christmas, the three college students found themselves spending most of their time in the house. None of them really felt the need to go find some night life, instead all bundling into Spencer’s room to play whatever games had been left behind.

Ryan’s phone buzzed on top of the bed, shaking their card game against the sheets. Looking at the screen, felt their face heat up at the same time their friends noticed the blush.

“Your boyfriend calling again?” Brendon asked from where he was curled up in Spencer’s lap across from them on the bed. Spencer’s chin tucked over his, he pointed at a card in Brendon’s hand before they older boyfriend down said-card. Ryan wanted to point out how two-against-one Uno wasn’t a thing, but Spencer would probably throw the cards if they made Brendon sad.

Ryan answered his question by placing a ‘draw four’ card on top of the pile. Unfortunately it didn’t silence the interrogation.

“He calls you constantly, just fucking pick up you freak.” Spencer rolled his eyes, pulling cards from the deck into his hand.

“Jon misses you.” Brendon stretched out his leg to poke Ryan with his toes. The phone stopped vibrating, but the interrogation didn’t. “Call him back!” He threw down a card that didn’t match what Spencer put down and internally Ryan gave up.

Secretly, Ryan was impressed Jon kept calling. He’d called at least once a day since they’d left Chicago, but Ryan couldn’t bring themself to answer. Texting Ryan could do. There was time to make their thoughts not sound stupid before hitting send. Speaking over the phone they couldn’t plan. They couldn’t see Jon; read his body language and his face and make sure they weren’t saying the wrong thing.

Ryan’s last girlfriend told them once they were neurotic. She may have been onto something.

Shaking their head slightly, Ryan blinked. In front of them on the bed Spencer and Brendon had gotten very…handsy. Throwing their cards at the couple, they grabbed their phone off the comforter and threw their cards at the couple. “I’m going to go get Christmas presents, as Christmas is in two days and I don’t want to watch you too fuck. I suspect you two want condoms?”

Brendon detached himself from Spencer, who didn’t appear deterred as his mouth trailed down Brendon’s neck. “We’ve got condoms. Can you get us lube instead?” He asked, voice far too genuine as Ryan’s brother sucked on his neck.

Ryan made a note to look into brain bleach while out.

-

Malls at Christmas always left Ryan with an overwhelming emptiness. Children screaming for things they’d inevitably get from Santa, parents fighting in hissed whispers over credit cards, overworked retail employees who didn’t get paid enough to be away from their families for the holidays. Walking out of Radio Shack, Ryan made a mental note to ask Linda if she’d be down to run a post-Christmas essay on capitalism’s destruction of the Christmas spirit. Knowing her, probably.

Ryan noticed a grumbling man raise from his camping spot on a nearby bench to join a woman leaving a store with bags in her hands. As he vacated his seat, Ryan took his spot. Setting down the Smith-Urie family presents, they took out their phone and stared at the screen. One unopened voicemail, three unopened texts. All from one Jon Walker. Ryan opened the texts first.

_“my grandma just arrived and is already cooking 4 christmas eve 2mrw pls help”_

_“if i c u and i look like an oompa loompa blame nana walker”_

_“i know ur a hermit but txt me back so u can help me find an oompa loompa shaped coffin”_

They felt a twang of guilt looking down at the thread of their conversations post-first semester. For every ten Jon texts, there appeared to be one from themself. Ryan had never been good at keeping up friendships if they weren’t right in front of them. If Spencer and Brendon weren’t like their left and right hands, they’re pretty sure they would have lost them too. Though subconsciously, Ryan knew they’d never leave them.

Swallowing the stone in their throat, Ryan pressed play to the voicemail and raised it to their ear.

 _“Captain’s Log, stardate: Christmas Eve-Eve. My oldest brother’s daughter is teething and keeps chewing on my fingers. She’s too cute to stop her, so here’s hoping my digits last the winter.”_ Jon laughed at his own joke, and Ryan found themself smiling. They’d missed that sound. _“So if you don’t return my calls in the next two weeks, Merry Christmas and Happy New Year. Send my love to the happy couple, and take some pictures for me.”_ The phone beeped it’s end and Ryan looked at the time stamp. Fifteen minutes ago.

Feeling the stone coming back up, they swallowed again before pressing the ‘dial’ button. After a handful of rings, the line picked up.

_“Ryan Ross, Merry Christmas.”_

Ryan could practically see his smile. “Merry Christmas.” They mumbled back. “So…are you oompa loompa-esque yet?”

Jon’s laughter filled their ear and suddenly the screaming children and fighting parents faded to the background. _“More of a Winnie-the-Pooh shape at the moment.”_

“Red crop top and all?”

 _“I’m pulling it off.”_ His laugh faded to silence and Ryan felt the itch of discomfort. They knew it was their own fault. _“So how-“_

Ryan cut him off. “I’m sorry.” They blurted out.

_“…why are you-“_

“I’m sorry I’ve been ignoring you and denying I’m ignoring you. I get nervous on the phone because I can’t see your face to know I’m saying the wrong thing and then I psyched myself into thinking you were just being polite anyways so I never texted you back.” They couldn’t stop the flow of words from their mouth until they were all out. A teenager sitting near them was staring. Ryan wanted to throw up.

If Ryan could see him, they wouldn’t see him blink an eye. _“I’m not just being polite.”_ His voice was soft; the way it did when he got too tired or smoked too much. _“We’re friends, Ry.”_

“I know.”

 _“Do you?”_ He asked gently. _“Friends don’t typically need reminders that they’re your friends.”_

The rock was coming back. “Well I’m not typical.” They mumbled.

 _“You’re really not.”_ Jon breathed a laugh into the microphone. _“So, want to hear about how my niece stuck red M &Ms up her nose to look like Rudolph?”_

Ryan leaned back into the mall chair and closed their eyes. “Yes I would like that.”

-

Spencer and Brendon at least had the courtesy of acting like they weren’t waiting for them to come home when they walked in the front door. Front window curtain swishing, Ryan could imagine the marks of noses pressed to glass. “You two don’t get presents for two days so I don’t know why you’re waiting at the door like puppies.” They scolded, dumping their bags on the kitchen table. Before they could even turn around, Brendon was pressed into their back.

“Did you get lube?” He asked, fingers clutching Ryan’s hips. “Can we have it now please?”

Ryan tipped their head back. “Buy your own lube, homo.” They pressed their lips to his jaw. “Did get you some Sour Patch Kids.” Brendon cooed and kissed their neck as Ryan pulled the candies out of one of the shopping bags and handed them off.

Snatching them from their palm, Brendon practically skipped back to the couch and curled up into Spencer’s side. Wordlessly, Spencer reached in and picked out the red ones before pushing some into Brendon’s waiting mouth. Sometimes Ryan wondered how it took them so long to be a ‘them’.

“You talked to Jon.” Spencer stated, slipping another candy between Brendon’s lips before turning his head to directly meet Ryan’s eyes. Ryan bit their lip.

Brendon playfully bit Spencer’s finger before turning to Ryan as well, eyes wide and shining. “You called back JWalk?” He asked, excitement obvious in his voice.

“You know what? Change my mind! You can have your present now! It’s a ballgag, so I don’t have to listen to you and you and Spencer are probably into that!” Ryan pretended to rifle through the bags and Brendon snorted.

“Nah, Spencer likes it when I cry in bed.” He waved them off, and Ryan wished they were back in the mall listening to screaming children. Loud, screaming children who thought sex was all special hugs and never told their best friends about the special hugs they had with their boyfriend.

Ryan sighed. “Yes, okay, I called Jon.” Brendon pumped his fist in the air as Spencer wiggled his eyebrows. “That doesn’t mean anything other than we’re friends. I mean, we talked about his grandma. How romantic.” They snorted. Jon wasn’t romantic with Ryan. They could admit that maybe his friendship could be misconstrued as flirting, but he definitely wasn’t romantic. Everything Ryan had ever read about romance was candle-lit dinners and big bouquets of roses and grand gestures.

A horn honked twice from outside, and Spencer signed before hiding the candy in the coffee table. “Mom went and got groceries for Christmas.” He informed the two of them before grabbing Brendon by the arm and tugging him along. “Boyfriend means you have to carry in groceries.”

Brendon pouted. “But Spencer, my noodle arms!” He shouted before being shoved out the door.

Ryan watched as the two pushed each other around on the front lawn before Brendon practically pranced to take bags from Spencer’s mother’s hands. She handed him over the bags with a pat on the back and Ryan could see her lips spell ‘thank you’. As he waddled with his fists full of bags, clearly struggling, Spencer rolled his eyes and and stopped him before taking more than half from his hands.

Seeing the three heading towards the door, Ryan ducked away. They collected their bags up in their arms and carefully made their way down the basement stairs. Ginger wouldn’t appreciate the bags on her table. Somehow, without dropping anything, they kicked the door closed behind them.

-

Carefully, Ryan stashed all the Christmas presents under the basement bed. The last thing they needed was for one of the twins to find their new Tamagotchi’s in the next forty-eight hours. Ryan shrugged off their jacket and tossed their bag on the bed before flopping onto their back. Slowly, they inhaled. Slowly, they exhaled.

Ginger would probably give them shit for not helping with the groceries when they came upstairs for dinner. But as Ryan kicked their shoes off onto the floor, they couldn’t bring themself to care. Besides, she had Brendon now. He was stronger than Ryan was anyways. To be fair that wasn’t saying much, but at least Brendon didn’t bruise bumping into doorways.

Logically, they knew they shouldn’t be jealous of Brendon. He deserved all of the same things Ryan had found in the Smiths; comfort, safety, home. Brendon deserved all those things tenfold. But that didn’t stop Ryan from feeling…replaced, almost. The second the word came into their head, they dismissed it. Idiotic, Ryan thought. Brendon was their best friend. Shaking their head, they pushed the feeling to the bank of their mind.

They reached into their bag and pulled out their phone. Without giving themself time to think, they pressed redial. This time, the phone didn’t even ring once before the line picked up.

_“Two calls? In one day? Man, I love Christmas.”_

Maybe Brendon was right. Maybe Jon missed them too.


End file.
